Metro 2033: Liberation
by ElegantValkyrie
Summary: Just a few weeks after the events of Metro 2033, Artyom meets a new survivor with a connection to Hunter and expands his knowledge of the underground world... and hopes to save him and the whole of Metro while there's still something left worth saving. (Artyom x OC x Hunter)
1. Protection Money

**Chapter One:**

"It's too late now, the boss is angry; wants to see you immediately." A gruff voice stated haltingly.

"No, wait! Tell him I'll get him everything he wants, please!" The shrill cries of a short and slim man kneeling on the tracks of this particularly barren stretch of tunnel did nothing to sway the larger one, standing over him with an automatic machine gun, his finger stroking the switch impatiently. "I h-had trouble at the border, that's all. You know how it is with these rules about passes for transport goods!"

There was a cautious moment of silence and then the large man grinned as he cast his eyes down the far end of the tunnel ahead of them. The smaller man followed his gaze, his eyes wide and his brows knit. Distant footsteps were heard thundering forward and the echo made it very hard to discern whether it was one person or a whole army.

The sound grew steadily, until three figures began to emerge from the abyss. Coming to a stern halt squarely on the cross tie in front of the kneeling man, he followed the worn pair of combat boots upwards; the sight becoming more shocking as his eyes climbed the unexpected form.

"Well then." Spoke a smooth voice, it would have been comforting, had he not known the context of the situation he was in. "What seems to be the problem, Herr Schmidt? Are you no longer in need of our services, or have you simply ceased to function as a useful member of society?"

She spoke like a scholar or politician, calmly and yet condescendingly. He examined her stature quickly; tall and thin, lightly armored - yet armored. She also held an old machine gun, but as he had caught the glimpse of it in the dim emergency lighting she was placing it into a holster on her back. Her short red-brown hair fell around her face, as if it were slipping from the clip behind her head. Her face was young and pale; she couldn't have been any older than twenty-five. His jaw hung agape, his tongue struggling to form a word. Her eyes pierced at him, both hands on her hips, and she waited for his response.

"Y-you're a... I mean you-you're Aleksandr Dmitriyev? I thought—" The small man stuttered.

"AleksanDRYA." She raised her eyebrows, challenging him to continue prattling, daring him to continue to delay answering her question. He received the hint quite clearly.

"No, no, of course not. I-I mean, there's no problem at all miss—" His sentence was cut from his lips by the swift motion of Aleksandrya drawing her silenced Makarov pistol from its holster at her hip and aiming it at his head. It seemed like a flash of lightning had gone off in that brief moment, as if she had manipulated the very fabric of time. His hands flew up beside his ears to protect himself instinctively and he crumpled further downward, cringing.

"You may not have known, so I will tell you now, if it is one thing I cannot stand - it is a liar." She took a deep breath and then relaxed her weapon arm, crossing it over her other arm pensively. "Now, I shall give you two more days. Ivanovich will be keeping his eyes on you until you reach Theatre station. You will deliver my message and bring the supplies to Novokuznetskaya."

The man nodded silently, slowly, the whole time as she was talking; anything to keep that pistol from pointing in his direction again. Anything to keep those soldier's eyes from tearing him apart in their minds, wanting to make their fantasies a reality.

"Did I make anything unclear to you?" She leaned down to him, returning her pistol to her holster. He was finally able to let out a breath.

"N-no, I'll get on it straight away. Thank you, thank you. I'll never speak a word of this to anybody, I swear!" He began to stand up and back away slowly, gathering up his backpack and jacket that had been dropped during the initial scuffle.

"No. You won't." She seethed, letting the malice in her eyes show through until he turned his back and ran as fast as he could back to the Koltsevaya Line.

Aleksandrya sighed and relaxed her stance, rolling her eyes in annoyance. Lifting her machine gun out of the leather holster on her back, she took a few steps forward to where the small man had been kneeling down. The large guard began to chuckle and stepped forward with a lopsided grin.

"What is funny, Ivanovich?" Spoke the shortest soldier to the biggest.

"The look on their face - never gets old." Ivanovich, the large guard, balanced the magazine of his weapon on his shoulder and put his free hand on his belt.

"Stupid traitors, thinking they know everything. Thinking they can get away with slacking off. You would think Reich would stop sending so many spies. How many have we turned into errand boys, Aleks?" Spoke the other soldier who had been standing at her side.

"They aren't all spies, Nikolai." She spoke in a voice so low it was almost consumed by the expanse of the tunnel. "They are just like us."

"What do you mean?" The same young man raised an eyebrow.

"A Reich operative wouldn't cower and piss on themselves. Think about it - they send scouts, outcasts like us to do their dirty work and report back. Nobody wants to come this far, even to Paveletskaya." She shook her head and turned around to face her companions. "I feel sorry for him."

"So why scare the poor guy like that, then? If you knew so much about it." The soldier called Nikolai crossed his arms and made a pouting face.

"We can't afford to show any weakness. Outcast or not, he is still being used by them, and they do not easily give up." She narrowed her eyes and turned her head back down the tunnel. Many kilometers north and a line transfer away was the Fourth Reich territory - her former home.

* * *

><p>"Hey, Artyom!" There was a muffled knock on the hard metal frame of the door. "Are you awake or what? Can't stay in bed all day forever, you know." The voice was playful. It was definitely Ulman, come to check on him.<p>

Artyom groaned and rolled onto his side, his senses slowly returning to reality. Suddenly he remembered that they were in D-6, that he didn't live in a station anymore, it was the light in the small room that surprised him the most. Never thinking he would live to see this mythical place, that it even existed, let alone have his own room in it, he absorbed every detail he could until Ulman began knocking again. Pushing the heavy metal door aside, he was greeted by the mischievous expression on Ulman's face.

"Come on, it's time you got out for a bit. We've got a mission. Orders came down from Melnik this morning!" Ulman nodded excitedly, beckoning him outside.

Artyom took another quick look around and then went to his locker, inside was a new Spartan Ranger uniform - gray and blue urban camouflage pants and jacket, shiny black leather boots, a black tactical vest and all the little pouches and accessories you could ever need or want - all crisp and smelling of a musky wooden crate. He slipped it on over his undergarments quickly, Ulman was tapping and humming impatiently, but Artyom knew it was just for comical show; he knew just how to keep the mood light even in the most serious times and Artyom welcomed it, having been plagued by nightmares for the past few weeks since his previous mission two months ago - on the surface at Ostankino Tower.

Just a few short hours later, the combatant pair were rolling down the tunnel from Mayakovskaya in a small electric cart; they were to be the replacement fire team at the Church outpost on the surface. Artyom inspected his newly-issued automatic weapon thoroughly, impressed by its metallic sheen. He was certain after a few moments of admiration that it had never been fired before. Just how many weapons or other military artifacts had been in storage at D-6 all this time? Had the previous world's inhabitants stockpiled such items in anticipation for what might come upon them at some point? Perhaps they knew exactly what would happen.

Ulman stopped the cart just before the entrance to Belorusskaya and dismounted from the driver's seat. Artyom looked ahead to the entrance, expecting to see a searchlight or checkpoint but there was none. Only two dim emergency lights flanked the opening to the passageway to the Hanza Ring. He looked disbelievingly at Ulman.

"What, no guards?" He poked, hoping his simple question would evoke Ulman into a full explanation.

"They know it's only us Rangers coming through here. We've cordoned off the Reich territory – precautions." Ulman spoke with an unusually solemn voice, letting Artyom know he didn't intend to speak further about it.

He was then handed a new passport, within the pages of which he found an entry stamp for the whole of Ring territory; and they hadn't even been to a customs table! It was completely astonishing to Artyom, remembering how difficult everyone had always told him it was to enter Hanza territory – even if you didn't intend to stay there. He recalled with disgust his last journey through that line and it began burning him up inside how easy everything seemed to be going. How helpful this would have been to have before he had ever reached Polis…

"They will still search us; they want to make sure we aren't planning anything." Ulman stated plainly, heaving his rucksack onto his back.

"Like what?" Artyom spat out before he could think. Sometimes his curiosity got the better of him.

"Like a takeover." Ulman shot him a look of annoyance, but then flashed a smile as if he had never been irritated. "They want to be sure that we aren't going to try to take over the whole Metro now that we are in charge of D-6. Melnik and the council at Polis had a hell of a time striking a deal with them. For now at least, we have an… arrangement."

Artyom was still curious, but decided just to nod his head in understanding and keep his mouth shut. He deduced that Hanza agreed to be courteous to them and offer transit to Sparta Rangers in return for preventing a Reich advance. All the pieces were starting to fall into place in his mind.

"So we'll go along the ring to Oktyabrskaya, then up to the surface through the radial station." Ulman nodded his head at Artyom as a way to elicit his affirmative response.

"How far is it from the exit to the church?" He asked after he had nodded back.

"Not far, there's already a pretty clear path to there because of the car." Ulman referred to the armored truck that the Rangers used to traverse the surface sometimes. "But always be on the lookout for mutants, you can't predict them for long."

Artyom nodded his head again and they passed into Belorusskaya station with no further conversation.

When they did enter the main station, they could hear the bustle of the market – this being an important trade post for the Collective Farm stations that supplied nearly the entire Metro with pork, chicken, mushrooms, potatoes, and liquors. Angry sounding foremen barked orders at their workers, pushing them to work faster loading up a cart with goods. A few patrolling Hanza officers were about, usually in pairs, making their rounds to see that everything was running smoothly. Artyom almost thought it was strange that they didn't carry rifles, but only a sidearm in a holster at their belts.

He admired the beautiful lighting that he had so fondly admired upon his first visit, there were real lamps shining down on them from decorative brackets sticking out from the relief carvings on each pylon arch. The marble tiled floor was immaculate, though dulled from heavy traffic. A banner hung on the back wall displaying the brown circle logo of the Ring stations.

Making a swift step in front of him, Ulman crossed the main platform towards a small table at which sat another officer in a gray uniform.

"Artur Sergeyevich!" Ulman stepped up to the man with his arm extended.

"Ulman, my friend! What brings you to visit me today?" Artur rose from his seat promptly and extended the opposite arm towards Ulman and placed his hand on his shoulder. Ulman, returning the gesture, explained to him quickly where they were headed and then looked over at Artyom, who understood that as his cue to come forward.

"Ah, so this is your strong young man who saved the Metro. It is my honor, Artyom. I am Artur Sergeyevich; I'm an inspections officer here in Hanza. "

"Nice to meet you." Artyom shyly spoke; he hadn't fully considered that he'd saved anybody, or that it would seem so alien to him that a complete stranger would know anything about his actions.

"So then, we'll just go through the formalities and get you on your way." Artur smiled at them both, reassuring Artyom that this wouldn't be as terrifying as a typical inspection. He thought that Ulman must have known this person for a while and that perhaps Artur Sergeyevich wouldn't particularly take notice even if they had tried to bring a massive arsenal through his station. They were probably friends before their discovery of D6, and perhaps even before the over world disaster, although he reminded himself that Ulman was not much older than him – perhaps he was about thirty?

Enduring a quick pat-down and an examination of Ulman's rucksack, they were soon sitting on the transport trolley. Artyom counted the three filters he was given for the surface trek, and screwed one into his mask before putting everything back into his small pack. He began to mentally prepare himself to go to the surface again, doing everything in his power to not relive any moments from the tower. Instead he chose to think about how clear the air was at the top. He considered that it was only the radiation in the ground and the water that hung like a fog over the city, just one thick layer at the bottom that had congealed like pork fat left in the pan after it's been cooked. Once you got higher, the air was thin and crisp. Had all of the air been so clear in the old days of their city? He thought that maybe, if there was a way to rid the soil of that disease, to dispel the fog, then perhaps it was possible to live on the surface of the Earth once more.


	2. The Meaning of Life

**Chapter Two:**

Exiting the trolley at Oktyabrskaya, the two Rangers immediately headed for the stairway passage to the secondary station. This Hanza station wasn't much different from any other, except for the salvaged train body that had been pulled up onto the platform and seemed to serve as some kind of office. Two men in combat dress stood by one of its doorways and Artyom heard what sounded like an authoritative female voice echoing angrily from within.

Radial Oktyabrskaya was a free-transit station, really just a small appendage of Hanza, with whom the original inhabitants must have struck a good deal with early on. There was a large market in the middle of the main hall and every crevice smelled of delicious cutlets of pork and fried potatoes. Artyom wondered if it usually smelled this good or was it only that too much time had gone by since his last meal? He was tempted to stop, but Ulman's pace through the pedestrian traffic was relentless.

"Maybe on the way back, eh?" Ulman yelled back to Artyom, who was also just noticing how loud the area was.

Artyom nodded a solemn reply, patting his pocket to make sure he'd even remembered to bring any cartridges for trading with. The slight clink confirmed his query.

Reaching a small fire barrel at the other end of the market in a secluded hallway, Artyom counted four soldiers gathered around it and Ulman spoke quietly to the one on the far left. Another soldier offered a cigarette to his neighbor, who gladly partook, and they begun a quiet but enthusiastic conversation about their latest excursion to the local brothel. Artyom tried with difficulty to not listen, until Ulman's man nodded his head precisely once and then turned to his comrades, taking up a metro-made rifle in his hands.

"Two going out." He stated sternly, the other three men swiftly taking positions around the iron barricade that separated them from the outside world.

"See you around, Yuriy!" Ulman called over the noise of the motorized door before pulling the visor of his helmet down.

Artyom followed suit, sealing his own visor over his face, double-checking the filter he had placed in it earlier. The pair watched intently as every ray of light that sprawled its way across the filthy marble floor multiplied. Several residents in the tunnel around them shielded their eyes and turned away, Artyom thought that it was possible they hadn't seen the light before. It wouldn't be implausible.

The fire team of four guards each took paired positions beside the door frame, aiming their weapons keenly up the escalators. Only labored breathing was heard for a minute as they searched, watching and listening, and then at last the commander eased up and stood straight. He gave the two Rangers some sort of lazy salute and ordered his men back inside the confines of the station and the door began to grind shut again.

Artyom was surprised to find himself step forward first, taking a deep breath and hoping to feel in his lungs the crisp air he had been fondly remembering a few minutes ago. But there was only the staunch and close embrace of the filtered sludge in his nostrils. It was clean, but somehow he could tell the difference. The air, if you could call it that, was heavier.

Ulman stepped up the first few feet of the escalators, checking for its stability before uttering a satisfied grunt and plunging forward. At the top they found themselves in what was a remarkably undestroyed building, the ceiling was arched similar to the tunnels and at one end there was a tall black metal gate leading to the street. The plaster was cracked and discolored, but it almost seemed as if this were a place abandoned by time and not by war. It gave off an eerie feeling, as though there might have been people here just moments ago and yet for some reason they just picked up and left without touching a thing.

Artyom was in amazement, letting himself wander just a bit from Ulman's footsteps, and neither of them seemed to notice. The air was a bit lighter here than at the bottom of the escalators, and any fears he might have had about returning to the surface again were quelled. Instead he had begun to dread returning to the dark tunnels.

Before he could get too caught up in his internal philosophy, Ulman was prying open the meal gate and summoning him to follow closer. Artyom jogged for a few steps to catch up and could already see the narrow cleared street that Ulman had mentioned before. The Orthodox Church was sitting stoically in the distance; its golden onion dome shining dully in the light of what he guessed was late afternoon. There wasn't a soul or sound to be heard, it almost seemed too easy!

"Hurry up now, the guys are waiting for us. I bet they've made us some tea." Ulman chirped and Artyom could tell he was smiling beneath his helmet.

Tea sounded amazing, and while their journey hadn't been long or arduous, Artyom was looking forward to being still for a time, to catch up on the thoughts he was immersed in earlier.

Ulman pushed the gate back into place after they had passed through, and they picked up a quick pace in the direction of the outpost. Artyom was timing the beat of their footfall with the sound of their breathing and it began to meld into some kind of natural music. He relished the rhythm, trying a bit harder than usual to stay in step with his partner, and they were shortly at the doors of their home for the next few hours. Ulman knocked forcefully.

"Password!" Shouted a hoarse voice from inside the sanctuary.

"С днём рождения!" Ulman called back quite excitedly. Artyom tried not to giggle, but also wondered if it was actually anyone's birthday.

The heavy door opened with a creak, and inside a very large older man with a heavy automatic weapon stood at ease.

"Спасибо!" He replied in a gruff but cheerful voice, lowering his weapon and then placing it carefully on a metal tripod stand nearby.

Ulman and Artyom stepped in and another man closed the door behind them. Each of them removed their helmets and Ulman ran a hand through his hair, straightening it towards the back of his head. His black mane had gotten long since Artyom last saw him without a helmet.

"Come in, yeah, we just made a fresh pot of tea!" Spoke the young man behind the door; he must have been about Artyom's age.

"Aha, see, I told you!" Ulman winked at Artyom and then followed after the large man towards the fire.

"You're Artyom, yeah? I'm Grigori, Grigori Igorevich. It's nice to meet you!"

"Nice to meet you as well. How long have you been a Ranger?" Artyom looked into the stranger's face, there was a certain naivety about him, but he had to trust that he had earned his position somehow. Not that Artyom himself was really one to judge such things.

"Not long, for sure. I just graduated the training. I was orphaned in Polis from the beginning, a few of the Brahmins took me in, but I always wanted to be a soldier, to protect people." The young man led him over to the fire to join the others and begun pouring them each a cup of mushroom brew.

"To protect people…" Artyom mused to himself. He took his cup of tea in slow motion, blurred to the conversation around him as he contemplated the meaning of the sentence. He recalled the Inspection Officer they met earlier that day at Belorusskaya, and how he had been referred to as a 'savior.' Something soured in Artyom's mouth at the memory and he returned his cup to the makeshift table between himself and the wall.

To protect people usually also meant to sacrifice something, and what had he sacrificed along the way to protect his home station and the people that he loved there? What had he sacrificed of said station in order to get to Polis on Hunter's deranged mission? How many people sacrificed things for him, in support of his journey? What had it all been for? Artyom thought that peace and calm would overcome him when he had reached his destination and accomplished his goal, but it had always seemed like one thing led into another without him knowing where it actually ended. Now even though he thought he had finished, life continued on, and the only difference was not knowing what the next step was. To live in damned comfort in D6 and going out on scheduled patrols for the rest of his desolate, and likely irrevocably shortened, life? No, that could not be the whole of it.

For a time, he watched the interactions of the men around him in a daze, talking, joking, laughing, and it all seemed so ridiculous. How could the weight of the dead city around them not affect them in any way? How could they sit so complacently and make light of it?

He excused himself from the group by the fire, offering to take over the post upstairs in the bell tower. The old man in the tower was relieved when Artyom offered him a refilled mug of his tea and sauntered off, muttering something about the searchlight faced out the window.

Artyom went straight back to work at contemplating the meaning of life, if you could call this existence anything of the sort. What exactly had been worth saving at such a cost? The relative comfort of the people and the hallways he knew so well at VDNKh. Their well-being had seemed like such a noble thing to defend that he did so without a second thought. He had felt responsible for it, for all of it, for leaving the northern barrier door open to… them. The Dark Ones. Those alien beasts who took Hunter, or killed him? Nobody knew. Nobody had ever seen him or heard from him again since that night after Artyom's last watch at the four-hundred and fiftieth metre.

The mysterious Hunter, who seemed to know his way around so well, who seemed to know what to say to people to make them believe he'd already known all about you. Now here he was standing on the other end of his mission, completed, and he was realizing that he hadn't known Hunter at all. The only reason to trust him was the urgency, and the forcefulness of his voice. He could still see Hunter, thrusting that cartridge memento into his hands and turning his back, striding off with such forceful confidence, or was it indifference? Had the veteran Ranger known he would die?

Come to think of it, Artyom had never found out what was written on the note inside that peculiar capsule. Was that a regular system of secret messaging between members of the Order? He was hard pressed to recall any other Ranger using such technology to communicate. Was everyone, perhaps, issued a cartridge like that for a dying message in case of emergency? And if so, why had he not received one?

On the other hand, what would he have even written on it? At this moment in his life he didn't really have family, or anyone he could say actually knew him that well. He had thought of returning to Prospect Mira in hopes of tracking down where Sukhoi may have fled to, but he wasn't about to admit to being terrified of journeying back to where he'd come from. Things would have seemed impossibly hopeless had he returned there, now that everyone had been evacuated and they were going to blow the tunnels near Prospekt Mira. He wondered, had they even tried to go back to VDNKh since the missile strike on the Botanical Gardens? Were the Dark Ones truly dead?

A flash of white light preceded a darkness in his vision and he felt faint. Leaning crookedly against the wooden railing of the balcony at the top of the church, he grasped at the frame of the small window in front of him, trying to steady himself. A searing pain crept under his skull, making his senses short out. He blinked; he strained to see, struggling to stay on his feet.

Flickering flames danced in the distance and he was drawn to it, unsure if he was walking or floating. He looked left and right and only saw the velvety black of nothingness, just the vast expanse of empty space, dark but without the oppressive ceilings of tunnels. Closer and closer he approached it, until he reached the orange glow which had steadied and then stood still. He was watching the sunset, and what had been shadowed before was gradually illuminated to reveal the broken city around him. He shielded his eyes from the glare until the light dissolved. A tall black body stood rigidly in front of him and he knew instantly what it was. It couldn't be possible. Cold terror overtook his whole body and a shiver ran down his spine; every hair stood on end, the electricity of his fear was building up.

Artyom ran, turning on the heel of his boot he took off as quickly as he could in the opposite direction of this monstrous thing, but it was hopeless. Glancing back over his shoulder he saw the figure still standing behind him, just a few paces away, as if he had barely moved at all.

"Wait." It spoke in a monotone voice, echoing in his ears. "You don't understand."

"I don't want to!" Artyom cried, still in mid-step in slow motion.

Time now seemed to have stopped entirely for everything but the Dark One. It shifted itself in front of him, staring at him with its cold pupil-less eyes.

"You don't understand." It repeated. Echoing. Playing over and over again inside his mind.

"Let. Me. Go." Each word from his mouth took so long to spit out and still retain its ferocity.

"We need you." The Dark One spoke in a whisper and then faded back into darkness. Everything was in darkness. "Please…"

There was a howl, a piercing scream as if he'd never heard before, then there was growling. Next, Artyom found himself looking quite closely at the gap between the wooden floor boards. He had returned to the real world, and time was going fast here.

"Come on Artyom, get up, we need you! Are you okay? What happened to you?" Ulman shook him violently; grabbing the edges of his armor he lifted him up onto his feet like his body was a sack of potatoes. "Never mind now, get on that spotlight and stay alert!"

Ulman rushed back down the stairs with his rifle already in his hands. Artyom looked below to see all the other Rangers gathered by the door. He turned, feeling his head reeling, and flipped the switch on the spotlight. An intense white light beat down on the icy surface of the ground for a moment before it began to flicker, and then it went out.

"Artyom!" Ulman called, and he knew what his inflection meant.

He pushed the lever back and then turned it on again, this time it flickered twice first and then stayed on. At the moment he was about to call down to tell them the light was working, he heard the door open. The big man with the heavy gun stepped out first, flanked by the other four soldiers who had been sitting at the fire drinking tea.

The firing began, and Artyom heard more howling. He reached for his machine gun leaning against the railing and aimed it out the window at the edge of the path they had walked up on. He scanned carefully for movement and when his eye caught a rustle in the weeds, he opened fire on the unknown anomaly. A low growl was heard before the movement stopped and the light went out again. It was almost dark out now and there were anguished grunts coming from downstairs. Artyom kicked the stand of the light in anger, flicking the switch off and on again until it shone steadily.

"Artyom, we need you down here!" Grigori called out with a hint of terror in his voice.

Without another thought or hesitation, Artyom leapt down the stairs and rushed out the door, shoving it closed behind them all. Three men were blindly firing into the bushes and crevices of the earth. Grigori was nervously reloading the magazine of his weapon, his eyes darting around in search of a surprise target. Artyom tried to follow his gaze, to give the young man cover while he fiddled with his weapon.

Suddenly, a ragged Nosalis leapt from a pile of debris on their right and tackled the heavy Ranger to the ground; Artyom changed his stance and opened fire until it screeched its retreat. The Ranger stumbled to get to his feet and looked okay, but where there was one, there was more. Grigori had already exhausted his reloaded magazine and was backing slowly away from the left edge of the battlefield. Ulman was the farthest one forward, accompanied by a shorter Ranger with a shotgun; they were picking off several targets as they ran in a large group across the road.

"The road is clear, let's go!" Ulman yelled to whoever was capable of following him. Artyom wasted no time in trying to catch up and Grigori with another Ranger was right behind him.

In the whirlwind of weather and adrenaline everyone rushed back towards the Oktyabrskaya station entrance.


	3. Novokuznetskaya

**Chapter Three:**

A cacophony of howling surrounded them; every man huddled into a circle, facing outwards, weapons at the ready. They stepped slowly, inching their way towards the station and to safety. One Nosalis crawled closer, not ready to attack yet, as if he was taunting them, testing them. Grigori's hands shook violently and Artyom watched his finger slip down onto the trigger. He tried to grab his hand but it was too late, Grigori pulled the trigger back and the curious Nosalis rolled backwards into a ditch. Artyom knew they were in for more trouble now, it seemed as if every last remaining beast rushed forward at that moment and their firing circle did not hold up for long.

Artyom felt the force of a large body jumping on top of him, and he was shocked to find himself looking up at the endless grey sky. He reached for the knife in his boot, drawing it out and stabbing at the being's underbelly in one swift motion. It shrieked loudly, his visor was splattered with its off-color blood. The weight was lifted and he rolled onto his side, searching on the slippery ground for his rifle. He could see a few pairs of boots nearby, scrambling to defend their own positions.

His automatic rifle lay just a few feet to his right and he crawled on his side towards it, trying to get traction on the ice with his feet proved useless. He arched his back up and pulled himself to his knees, lunging forward and taking his rifle up like a child in his arms. He quickly checked the switch and his magazine, everything was in order and he still had about half his rounds left.

Searching for a target was not hard, but they were all moving too fast, the battlefield was covered in blood and grey fur, and peppered with the four remaining Rangers. Artyom hoped Ulman was one of them, and hoped the one that was missing was not Grigori.

A new brand of howl tore across the open sky, signaling a flying demon entering into the action. Artyom gritted his teeth and cursed quietly, hoping that crouching next to the bushes would camouflage him. He could hear two of the men yelling short commands at each other, and then heard the Ranger with the shotgun fire three times. He swiped his jacket sleeve across his mask to clear his vision, but could not see from his location what was going on now.

More shots were heard nearby, two more shotgun blasts and another burst of automatic fire. He could hear one man yelling, almost as if he were trying to scare the beasts off with a war cry. Next, he could clearly hear a new command.

"If you're still alive… run!" He wasn't sure who had called out; the tone of the voice was lost in its volume.

Further explanation was not needed, as the heavy Ranger came barreling towards him, his main weapon was either lost or he had ditched it when he ran out of ammunition. He grabbed Artyom by the collar of his jacket and dragged him from the frozen field and down into a rocky ravine to the left of the path.

Forcing his own feet to catch up with the other man's speed, he was quickly released and continued to follow after the heavy Ranger, only looking back once and worrying that none of the other men seemed to be following them. He would ask questions only after they had stopped, for now he just wanted to believe that they would catch up, or had found another way through the vicious hoard.

Hearing distant howling, he guessed that they had lost the trail of the mutants, and yet they kept running. This man seemed to know quite well where they were headed, because there seemed to be several different paths through the old streets and he turned down each one precisely. Even when one path was blocked by a crumbled building or pile of rusted car bodies, he knew just how to get around to the other side without climbing over.

After a few more turns the man slowed his pace down to a brisk walk, coughing every few steps. It was only after Artyom stepped up beside the man that he noticed the large crack in the plastic of his gas mask.

"Look kid, I might not make it back, so I have to," more coughing, "I have to tell you where to go from here."

Artyom shook his head nervously, trying to find words to reassure the man that he would be okay. He had filters to spare, but not another mask. His mind raced, wondering where the other Rangers were and what had happened to them where he couldn't see.

"Wh-what about the others?" He squeaked, motioning in the direction they had come from.

"They were… pinned down across from me, but they were very close to the gate." The man stopped walking and doubled over in a fit of coughing. "Don't go back there, there's another way. Listen. Keep heading down this road for three blocks, then turn left. There will be the entrance to Novokuznetskaya there."

Artyom nodded solemnly, recognizing the man's difficulty and feeling the actuality that he would not be accompanying him back to the Metro.

"It's a free station, but make yourself known." He held an arm out, looking for stability as he sat down.

It was then that Artyom was sure that he would be going alone; tears began to well in his eyes, although he didn't know the man at all. He thought he should offer him something, some kind of comfort or parting words, a thank you even for dragging him out of the fight.

"Radio, through Hanza, when you arrive." The man was now wheezing between breaths. "Take this."

For a moment Artyom was expecting a mysterious cartridge message capsule, but instead the man gave him his pistol, a worn Tokarev with a reflexive sight.

"What is your name?" Artyom couldn't think of anything else to say.

"Senya, well, Semyon Antonovich. I don't have any family anymore, so don't you pity me." Senya closed his eyes for a moment, as if he was falling asleep, then growled intensely. "Now go!"

Artyom nodded, stepping back reluctantly. Senya waved his hand at him, urging him to leave and save himself. He turned his back and took a few steps, but then looked over his shoulder again.

"Novo-", he sputtered, "kuznet-skaya!" Senya's body relaxed.

Then he ran, avoiding the cracks in the pavement beneath his boots; watching carefully that his path was clear by the eerie light of the moon. There were no clouds now, and the night was black and lifeless. Three blocks, three side-streets away he turned left as he was instructed and another block down was a sign for the Metro. Its crooked red M almost infuriated Artyom, although it was his home. He had come to resent it after all he had experienced there, but the surface was becoming an equal pain in his side. It seemed there was no end to death and violence no matter where he went.

Tears streamed down his face now as he ran down the steps of the escalator and pounded on the heavy iron door that separated him from the bowels of the city. A red light came on, flashing, and he heard the motor start up. The heavy barricade moved aside and he nearly fell over as he stumbled inside, holding his head in his hands, trying to get a hold of himself before he had to explain the situation.

"Woah there friend, what's going on out there? Must have been some shit!" Spoke a smooth masculine voice. Artyom could only guess it was a guard on duty, although the man wore plain and baggy clothes.

"I-I need to send a message. Radio." Artyom stammered, out of breath, trying to regain balance over his emotions and his lungs.

"Sure, sure, man. Just calm down and we'll get what you need." The strange new face patted him on the shoulder, nudging him to have a seat in a small booth by the door that had slammed shut again.

A good twenty minutes passed as Artyom regained his composure and explained, in short, what had happened to their Ranger squad on the surface. His new friend, calling himself Valya, listened intently as if he'd never had such an adventure before, even though the story ended in tragedy.

"So I need to send them a message, tell them I am okay and what happened; that I will make it back to them soon." Artyom took a deep breath in after expelling that long sentence from his lungs.

"Yeah, sure." Valya clapped a hand to Artyom's shoulder. "I'll let Sasha know and he'll pass it on okay? But you should get some rest, yeah? You're welcome to stay here of course." He stood up and offered Artyom a hand.

He was lead to a small guest tent that was set up in one of the service passageways underneath the main platform. Inside the tent was a sagging cot and an oil lamp. It looked plenty cozy to Artyom, who fell into it immediately, letting his rucksack fall onto the floor beside him. Valya reassured him that all would be taken care of and to get some rest, and that he'd be welcome to share a meal with him when he awoke. With no strength left to refuse or to question, Artyom was asleep in minutes without another care in the world about what would happen next.

What seemed to him like two days later, Artyom was just beginning to show consciousness. He checked his watch, quarter to ten in the morning. He felt rested, having been too exhausted from the previous day's activities to have had capacity for any dreams and so he was relieved. He felt his stomach rumble, and then immediately began to feel guilty. He thought of Senya, resting peacefully against the shell of an old car. He wondered about Valya, and if his radio message had been sent, and also if he was still welcome to breakfast.

Lifting the tent flap, he took a long stretch and then looked to both sides of the hallway in search of his acquaintance. Finding no sign of anyone except for a few children playing, he wondered where to go. He seemed to remember coming into the station from the right, and passing nothing last night of much significance, he deduced that the offices and common areas had to be on the left in the main vestibule.

Pondering for a moment if his rucksack should be left in the tent or not, he quickly decided against it and slung it over his shoulder. He knew he couldn't stay, if the message had gone through he had to follow it. He had to get back to D6, at least to see if Ulman had made it back, too. Heading down the hallway to the left and up the narrow concrete stairs, he reached a man-made enclosure which forced him to turn right into the main vestibule. Here there was a communal fire with several people gathered here and there talking in groups. He didn't need to search their faces for long.

"Artyom! Over here." Called the now-familiar voice of Valya, and he headed towards the sound. "Come have some sausage and egg. I want you to meet my friends."

Friends? He thought it was a nice notion, but knowing all too well his penchant for getting into trouble he hesitated. They were very close to bandit territory and the front lines between the different clans of the criminals shifted every day. Ultimately his stomach drove him on.

"Hello Artyom, it's nice to meet you! I'm Nikolai Ryzhov, and this is my twin brother Dmitri Ryzhov." Spoke a fresh faced young man with shaggy brown hair and long stubble. He gestured to another young man sitting across from him with similar features, but with no beard and dark hair shaved extremely short.

"Yeah it's some good luck, huh? My friends are visiting from Avtozavodskaya, and they offered to escort you back to the Ring and get you heading home!" Valya beamed and looked back at his friends.

"Well, actually it's more like we need you to escort us." Nikolai Ryzhov put up a hand to interrupt. He looked up at Artyom with an apologetic expression before continuing. "You see we're traders, we've picked up some goods from Venice to take back with us, but there's a problem."

Artyom sat down slowly, quizzically watching Nikolai as he attempted to gesticulate along with his story. He didn't really mind what the story was about or what they needed help with, as long as the plate Valya was filling was for him.

"Well we've usually done a bit better business by this point, so now we have too much, but we have to get these supplies back to our station." Nikolai looked over at his brother for some support but only got an annoyed grunt in reply. "Anyways, I'm worried that just the two of us can't get the whole haul through Hanza without questions - but if we had another guy with us that would be a caravan and they wouldn't mind then."

Artyom nodded intently as Valya handed him the plate, it seemed a simple errand to him, and every forkful of fluffy egg he ate convinced him more.

"Avtozavodskaya is only two stops past the Ring, where Valya told us you're going to, it'd be quick if you could help us back to there and then head right back the way you came. We'll pay you of course."

Not particularly interested in pay, Artyom thought for a moment of turning down the offer, but something made his heart skip and he just couldn't refuse. He didn't know anything about Avtozavod Station, or its inhabitants and the prospect of going somewhere new intrigued him, especially since he had a new passport with a Hanza visa. After all, they were going in the same direction; it wouldn't be that long a detour.

"Alright, when do we leave?" He asked hesitantly.

"Whenever you're ready, my friend!" Nikolai was overjoyed. "Is there anything you need before we go? You don't have to take your pay in cartridges either. As I said, we're traders, so is there anything?"

Artyom thought the question was odd, and pondered it for a moment. He had never been in a situation where he could name his own price for hire, he wasn't sure if he truly knew the worth of such services. First, he wondered if their goods were all legitimate – were they perhaps trying to rid themselves of stolen items on a random passerby to avoid suspicion? He decided that they looked like rather healthy and put together people and didn't seem like any of the typical bandits or criminals. Next, he wondered what assortment of things they might have on hand, or what he might want. Truthfully he couldn't think of anything, the only things he ever really wanted were what seemed necessary to sustain life; food, light, a place to sleep. Then, it came to him.

"Books?" Nikolai seemed astounded by the question. "Well yeah, of course we have some, but we haven't traded with them in a while, not many people are interested anymore. I'll tell you what - when we get back to Avtozavodskaya, you can have whatever you like!"

Although feeling extremely skeptical, something told Artyom that this was a good thing. He did still have his automatic weapon and the pistol that Senya gave him. At the very least, he could defend himself and get back to Hanza if things went badly. He was determined to trust himself more and step fully into the boots that made him a part of the Order. He wanted to earn his new position.

After finishing his plateful of breakfast, he shook hands with Valya and promised to visit if he passed in his direction again. Nikolai nudged Dmitri to get up and he did so begrudgingly. Artyom wasn't quite sure what the story behind these two brothers was, but it both intrigued and uninterested him. It was Dmitri's strange personality that caught him wondering the most. Nikolai had said that they were twins but they seemed like such totally different people who wouldn't even hold a drunken conversation together.

He watched them gather their effects and gauged their actions as he followed them to where they had been staying in a similar tent to his. Dmitri was mostly silent, and would grunt and gesture before resorting to short sentences. He seemed constantly aggravated and pessimistic; perhaps he was holding a grudge? Nikolai on the other hand was usually smiling, saying hello to people, and trying to start and continue conversations even when the other person wasn't interested.

"Alright, can you manage your bag and this, too?" Nikolai pulled a large rucksack out from their tent and dragged it over to Artyom.

"I'll have to." Artyom said flatly, choosing to pull the straps of his smaller pack through the straps of the larger so that they were linked together. Then he heaved the set onto his shoulders. It wasn't as heavy as he'd expected – just bulky and cumbersome.

"Any other business before we head out? Got your passport ready?" Nikolai asked with a smile, and also looked over at Dmitri to confirm.

"I'm ready." Artyom replied, patting the breast pocket of his vest to check for his passport.

Dmitri remained silent, hauling his own pack onto his back, and then took the lead into the southern tunnel.


	4. Roten Spaten

**Chapter Four:**

As predicted, they had no trouble getting through the Ring territory and out onto the other side. Artyom began to wonder if the strange brothers truly had need of him or if this had all been a futile endeavor. Most likely, they were just overcompensating to make sure there was no difficulty. He couldn't blame them for wanting extra protection. In some ways Nikolai seemed gullible and overly friendly and Dmitri didn't seem to be much help because he barely talked and didn't seem to contribute much to any other aspect of their purpose.

"This is radial Paveletskaya now." Nikolai walked up right next to Artyom.

Dmitri was still in the lead, and was still saying nothing. He looked to be in good shape, because his rucksack didn't seem to effect or hinder him in any way. Perhaps there was more to him than what met Artyom's eye.

"I remember this place." Artyom said with disgust under his breath, but Nikolai still heard him.

"You've been here before? Yeah, it's a bit of a despicable place. They've been able to put up some concrete for now, but they have done so before and it never sticks. We'll be quick passing through anyway." Nikolai flashed him a smile.

"Fuckin' lepers." Dmitri muttered.

It was the first time he'd said a word since the Hanza border checkpoint half an hour ago. One of the customs guards questioned what he needed four knives for in his line of work. Dmitri had replied unconvincingly that he had run out of space in his other bag but refused to speak further after that. Nikolai had stepped in to diffuse the situation anyway, as he was prone to doing.

"What choice did they have, brother? Hanza was very tight security, especially in the beginning, and our station was a holdover for a long time before it was abandoned. So for the people at Paveletskaya it was life or death, even if life meant disease." Nikolai said quite diplomatically.

"Holdover?" Artyom raised an eyebrow in questioning.

"Yeah, sort of like, the people who were there at the start didn't really belong anywhere. There were all the factions forming up, the Reds and Nazis just getting started. Only the people at Avtozavodskaya believed for a long time that they were going to be rescued, so they didn't really prepare themselves. They just waited, and waited, and nobody came, you know. So they just died out, one by one, some of them left and went here and there but pretty soon it was empty and nobody was there anymore." Nikolai talked as if he might have been there at that time but Artyom knew he would have been quite young and probably wouldn't remember such things.

It was a very sad thought for Artyom, who also had no memory of when his underground life began. He had very faint images of his mother, her outfit, and a park with trees, but couldn't recall all the mundane days that passed so slowly when he was growing up in the tunnels. To think that people were and even still are consciously choosing not to accept reality, to believe that at any moment they might be saved and return to their former lives in the city as if it was still whole, and shining, and clean. It was a bittersweet dream.

"So, what's at Avtozavodskaya now?" Artyom inquired as they were reaching the first platform of Paveletskaya.

"Well, it was abandoned for a time, and then some of the better-off people from Paveletskaya moved down and started over. There was some kind of disagreement there and then the Revolutionists took over control. Now, it's a place for some of us who don't fit in anywhere else, with nowhere else to go." Nikolai's smile was more solemn this time, and Artyom was sure that he was speaking from experience.

There wasn't anyone on duty here at Paveletskaya as Artyom had witnessed last time he had come through this station. The dark chasm on the far side of the hall was walled in with concrete just as Nikolai had said. Where previously the iron door was missing from this station's exit, and one could see the sky from the right angle, there was now a solid grey partition with a small lamp hanging from a pipe in the ceiling. The name of the station was crudely, but proudly, painted onto this wall in yellow block letters.

No checkpoints meant no stops and they only said hello to a few people in passing, never ceasing their steps. People stared at them in wonderment, as the military gear they wore seemed to contrast so drastically with the colorful clothing that the residents here were adorned with. Artyom did his very best not to look back at anyone, to focus his vision solely on Dmitri's boots and the crossties. Nikolai had taken up the rear position again and he could hear his steps close behind him. They never left the tracks, continuing straight on into the next tunnel.

Artyom took this next stretch of silence to listen to his surroundings. Since he'd never come this way before, he thought it would be interesting to see what this line had to say, what stories might linger in the pipes. He thought he could hear a few whispers, but it could have just been the swish of cloth as they moved. Focusing on the noise, he could hear the whisper grow louder, was the next station really so close?

"We're almost there." Nikolai said quietly from behind him. He had crept up very close to Artyom, was he afraid of something?

He could see a faint light coming from the right side of the tunnel and assumed it at first to be the station ahead. Drawing closer he realized that it was a door leading to a side passage a few meters from the main platform. Next, he noticed that Dmitri had halted and turned to face him.

"Stop here." He said in a low voice.

"This is where we keep all of our supplies. Let's go inside, all the books are in here, too. You can take whatever you like!" Nikolai smiled and motioned to the side door, leading the way.

Taking his first step hesitantly, he followed Nikolai into the doorway. It was a short hallway that led into a larger room. There was a single real light bulb hanging from the ceiling, a small stove was in the back corner with a fire glowing red inside. There were two tables and several chairs scattered around, some crates were in the corners as well. Artyom didn't see any books or really anything besides the furniture. He began to protest, but Nikolai was walking away from him.

As Nikolai stepped aside, Artyom was faced by someone new. Before him stood a young woman, her arms crossed, with red brown hair and grey eyes staring up at him. She was dressed in grey fatigues and had a tan armored vest that was laced up the front in two places. He noticed the pistol at her hip, the leather accents to her armor, shoulder pauldrons with a red spade painted on, and some kind of woven scarf around her neck. It was certainly a surprising sight. Artyom was stunned by her presence and froze on the spot. He was ashamed to admit that he hadn't known many women, and definitely hadn't known any who were soldiers.

"Dmitri, check him." She ordered, giving Artyom the same looking over that she had just received.

Artyom's weapon was taken from his holster before he could even think; Dmitri slid it across the longest table towards Nikolai and out of his reach. He then removed both rucksacks from Artyom's shoulders and set them aside as well. Stepping backwards, he blocked the exit.

"You have my word that you will not be harmed. I only have a few questions for you, and if you can answer them, then you may go." She narrowed her eyes slightly.

"What questions?" Artyom asked slowly, not wanting to provoke any hostility. He wondered what the punishment might be if he couldn't answer her questions. Would they hold him hostage? Put him to work in their station? The air was thick with anticipation. His heart beat so loudly in his chest that he almost didn't hear her reply.

"I want to know the whereabouts of a mutual friend. He is a Ranger, like yourself." Her expression changed to something like concern.

"Who are you?" Artyom leaned forward slightly, looking from the woman over to Nikolai, wondering what their connection or relationship was. His question was aimed as much at her alone as it was aimed at her group.

"My name is Aleksandrya Dmitriyev, and we are Roten Spaten." She straightened her shoulders before she continued. "I suppose you might understand it better as Krasnaya Strelka; named after the Red Arrow train that connected this city with Saint Petersburg."

"Red Arrow. Right." Artyom honestly had no idea about the train line to St Petersburg.

"So, Artyom, can you help me?" She took a step forward and he looked into her eyes, they were serious but apprehensive.

Then he noticed something shiny around her neck, among the straps and strings on her outfit, there hung a brass cartridge - just like the one that Hunter had given him before he disappeared.

"That capsule." He breathed the words, his eyes wide, fearful and disbelieving.

"I am looking for a man who calls himself Hunter. Do you know him?"

Artyom was in shock, tears welling in his eyes. His mouth hung open, quivering, and he had no idea what to say. First of all, not even he was sure what had actually happened to Hunter. What was he supposed to tell her? That he had died? It had been all this time and nobody had heard from him, but there was still a big part of Artyom that wanted Hunter to return. At the very least, he didn't want to risk upsetting this woman, Aleksandrya, while in her territory. There was no telling how she might react.

"You know him don't you? You know Hunter." She pressed after his moment of stunned silence; his reaction had given him away.

"I know him, but I don't know where he is." He stated simply, not sure how else to explain it.

Aleksandrya took a few ragged breaths, pacing in circles for a few moments, Nikolai tried to comfort her, but she pushed him away.

"It's okay, look, just because he doesn't know doesn't mean-" Nikolai began.

"Shut up!" Aleksandrya put up a hand to silence her comrade and then turned back to Artyom. "When did you last see him?"

"I-I, uh." Artyom stammered, he wanted to ask her the same questions. He blinked a few times, confused and tense. He was never entirely certain how long it had taken him to get to Polis from VDNKh. Sometimes it seemed like it was only yesterday, and at other times it felt like years had passed since he had set out on his first journey into the Metro.

"Fucking when?!" She yelled, stepping right up close to him and taking the top edge of his vest in her delicate hands. Her eyes pleaded, her expression was fierce.

"A month, maybe two. I don't know!" Artyom leaned back, trying to escape her grip, his hands in the air.

"You don't know…" She drew back, releasing his uniform and turned to face the wall. Taking a moment to compose herself, she heaved a deep sigh and then spoke calmly. "Where did he go?"

"He left on a mission, and nobody has seen him since then. Nobody has heard anything." Artyom said quietly, hoping his own emotions would be felt through his words. He hoped that she could feel his empathy; it seemed to him that they both felt the same way about the situation and the man in question.

"Where?" She said with more emphasis.

"He was going to Botanicheskiy Sad to seal the northern door on the Kaluzhsko-Rizhskaya Line." Artyom wasn't sure how his answer would help.

"The Dark Ones." Nikolai almost growled, walking over to Aleksandrya who had yet to turn around. "The fucking Dark Ones got him."

"Is that true, Artyom?" Aleksandrya seemed to understand exactly what the situation had been. Just how far did the tale of Artyom's journey travel? Did everyone know about the threat of the Dark Ones?

"Yes." He said solemnly, but took a step towards her, reaching out to touch her shoulder but Nikolai's stare stopped him short. "But I don't think they killed him."

Aleksandrya took another deep breath; Nikolai looked back and forth between her and Artyom. The silence was unbearable. Artyom feared her next reaction; would she lash out with rage? No, she seemed to be much more disturbed than angry and had become much more somber. The air had gone from thick with tension to heavy with sorrow. The weight that he had been carrying in his heart, that burden that likely she had shared with him, was now surrounding them, pressing down on them from above.

"Okay. Nikolai, show him into the station." Finally she turned around; avoiding looking into his eyes. "You'll stay here for the night while we prepare, in the morning I'll escort you back to Polis. They already know you are coming."

"Valya." Artyom said knowingly. The friendly sentry at Novokuznetskaya, he must have been a part of Roten Spaten, just waiting for someone like Artyom to come along and then be dragged down to Avtozavodskaya to be questioned.

"Dmitri, gather the others here. There's something else we need to discuss before the night is over." Aleksandrya walked further into the room, taking Artyom's pistol she looked it over before putting it on a crate against the wall next to his rucksack. "You can have these back once we get to Hanza."

"Just one question, first." Artyom dared, shaking Nikolai's hands from his arm and taking a step forward.

Aleksandrya looked back at him, surprised but with a look of curiosity, allowing him to speak.

"Why is this so important to you? How did you know Hunter?" Artyom's eyes burned, his head spun with confusion. Although he knew that Hunter had travelled far and wide, he never thought that anyone else would be looking for him. He never assumed Hunter to have many friends who would care this much about him. The Order had almost given up all hope of hearing from him, so why was she still in pursuit?

"That's two questions, neither of which you would truly understand if I were to explain." She put both hands on the table that stood between them, straightening her arms and hanging her head. "Hunter was like a… well, we were close. He taught me many things. Now please, go with Nikolai or I will send Ivanovich instead."

Artyom took a step back, allowing Nikolai to guide him out of the room. He didn't feel at all like resting or sitting around, but it seemed he had no choice. Dmitri stepped out of the room and disappeared into the station before Nikolai led him up the stairs to the main platform.

"So, all of this was just a set up?" Artyom mused to himself, not really expecting Nikolai to answer.

"Sorry. We had to be careful, and we had to be sure."Nikolai showed Artyom around the main hall, where he could get a meal, and then to a small tent similar to the one he stayed in at Novokuznetskaya. "Aleks probably won't ever tell you, but your information meant a lot to her. So, I'll thank you for her. Hunter was very important to her, and she has been worrying about him for weeks. At the very least, you have given her some closure."

"I still think it's possible that he's alive somewhere." Artyom insisted, hoping that saying it out loud would somehow make it true.

"Yeah but all this time and nobody has heard a word from him? Nobody has seen him anywhere? That guy was no joke. He was a warrior; no simple Snout or Demon could take him down, it had to be a bad situation." Nikolai attempted to convey how hopeless the idea was.

"How does she know him, anyway?" Artyom thought it was worth a try. If Nikolai was willing to be thankful in her stead, perhaps he could get an answer from him on her behalf as well.

"Give her a while, she'll calm down. Then you can ask her again yourself." Nikolai smiled his usual warm smile and that went a long way to comfort Artyom. Perhaps this wasn't a group of crazy outcasts trying to become bandits or start a faction. They were just the same as he was, human, and looking for answers.


	5. Avtozavodskaya

**Chapter Five:**

Artyom sat at the edge of his tent, leaning his back against the cot, the flap was open and he watched the activity of every passerby. He remained dazed by the events that had just taken place, by the character of the people he had been taken in by. Their predicament was peculiar, and the way they had gone about looking for answers was extremely clever. It proved, at least to him, that they didn't intend to harm him. He was agreeably surprised, or rather relieved, to learn that he was not the only one who had been mentored by Hunter; to know that someone else shared the pain of his disappearance.

He still contemplated how Aleksandrya had come to know Hunter. When and where had they met? What experiences did they share or what Hunter had taken an interest in with her. Obviously the fact that she was intelligent and resolute was a fine basis for any faction soldier, or even an officer. In fact she technically was one; she declared herself the leader of Roten Spaten and none of her male counterparts seemed to question or disparage her. Everything they did was for her support or was in line with an order she had given them. She was a brilliant mastermind, watching her orchestrations go along like a graceful melody.

Artyom was basically a nobody when Hunter had come to VDNKh. Yet somehow he knew to trust him with such an outrageous task for someone who had never left their home station before. Uncertain was a severe understatement for what Artyom had been at the time, he had barely even used a rifle before and knew nothing of the types of despicable people who controlled key areas that he had to travel though in order to get to Polis. It all seemed so impossible at the time, and yet here he was, still breathing, on the other side of the finish line.

Either Aleksandrya was just as ordinary as he was, or Hunter could read minds and see into the future. Perhaps it was both. Though reluctant and terrified, Artyom had carried out his mission dutifully, even though it had actually lead him in a whirlwind across half of the Metro and always landed him on the wrong side of the barricade.

The people here were quiet, and went about their business at a leisurely pace. There was one communal fire on the tracks of the far tunnel just off the platform; several residents were gathered around it having a pot of tea and a laugh. There were many decidedly non-Russian people here, and Artyom remembered fondly the squad of Revolutionists that he had met near here. Their squad consisted of two men of mostly Russian heritage, but also an Asian man and an African man. It was the same here, most people were of some local European culture, but also he could recognize a few Americans, Chinese, and some Spaniards. There was at least one person of every heritage that he could see from where he was sitting.

"So this is what Nikolai meant when he said these people had nowhere else to go." Artyom spoke quietly to himself. With all the increasing standards for genetics in the Reich territory, and with Polis and Hanza being so wary of outsiders wanting to immigrate, there truly weren't many places for simple people just wanting to lead a life of peace. Although this station was small and dark, it was beautiful.

Artyom had never really considered the question of racial purity. A small part of him supposed that the complete loss of Russian culture would be disheartening, but he never understood why racial background really mattered. None of it really mattered now anyway, there was no Russia anymore.

On that sour note, Artyom decided he had done enough sitting and thinking, and struggled to his feet lazily. Letting out a long breath, he walked down the main platform for a ways, listening to random conversation and the laughter of some children. He wondered if he would have children someday; if he would live for a long enough time to care for them, or whether it was worth it at all to risk having a child that was sickly and condemned to live in this underground cesspool forever.

Too much thinking, he had to immerse himself somehow. He tried his luck sitting in the small kitchen area, hoping to integrate himself into another person's conversation, but the few people who were sitting down to eat remained aloof to his presence. Next, he walked to the fire; there was always a good conversation to be had when sitting around the community fire, even with people you didn't know. This time he ventured an introduction.

"Hello, may I sit with you?" He asked timidly, adding in a weak smile.

"Of course my friend, pull up a crate. The tea is a bit cold now, but you're welcome to a cup if you can tell us a good story!" A man with a short beard spoke with a gentle but deep voice. He was impressively built, with blonde hair, and wore a long brown jacket.

"A good story…" Artyom mused for a moment. He had no shortage of stories, but wouldn't particularly call any of them good. He also didn't want to reveal his origins or give up any sensitive information.

"Come on, you're a Spartan Ranger, you must have something interesting to tell us!" This voice belonged to a woman; she was middle aged, with long black hair and very tan skin.

His uniform gave away that he did not belong here but the people didn't seem to mind. Instead they seemed to welcome him, their faces full of wonder at what he might tell them. Artyom silently questioned how often new people came through this station, as the residents didn't seem to be phased by his unusual presence.

"Well, there was one time; I was on a watch with Pyotr Andreevich at the border of my station. Beyond us is darkness and there is a strange noise from the tunnel. We had a few guys disappear the last week so everyone was on edge." Artyom looked around to see the horrified expressions on the faces of the people who had gathered. He knew he had to continue quickly or risk alienating everyone from talking to him again. "Well, I took my rifle and walked a few paces into the tunnel, Andrey was shining his flashlight but it was so dark. I called out 'Stop. Password!' only there was no reply."

"Was it a Dark One?" Someone in the small crowd said with a quiver in their voice; another person gasped and Artyom forced another smile to prevent a panic. He was becoming more and more accustomed to hearing strangers talking about the Dark Ones. It seems everyone in every corner of the Metro had heard the tale by now. In that aspect, the Metro didn't seem so large and divided.

"We went back to our tea and the fire, until we head the noise again, it was like a scratching and moaning. This time Andrey went into the tunnel. We heard him scuffle a bit and then he fired some rounds. Then there was yelling so Pyotr shined the flashlight on him and as he's walking back we can see in his arms there was a puppy, no bigger than a lurker." Artyom held up his hands for size reference.

"All that over a dog!" The blonde man exclaimed with a large grin on his face, holding out a chipped mug to Artyom. "Here my friend, you've earned it."

"Did he keep it?" Asked a frail woman who had earlier been gripping at her cloak in terror.

"Yeah, he took it home with him and cared for it." Artyom relaxed and sipped the cold tea, having broken the ice successfully; he savored its mild flavor as his reward.

"So, are you just visiting from Polis, or are you here to stay?" The blonde man leaned forward with his arms on his knees.

"Just visiting." Artyom pondered how to explain himself. "I had a message to deliver to Aleksandrya Dmitriyev. I'll be heading back in the morning."

"Oh, that poor girl, she works so hard to keep us all safe." Spoke the dark-haired woman.

"You're not all part of Roten Spaten?" Artyom cocked his head to the side, his brows knit in question.

"No." The blonde man said with surprise. "Aleks and her people protect us. She makes sure we have anything we need, and she handles all the trading."

"Really it's the Revolutionists who own this station, but they don't come by very often, so I suppose they appointed her as the leader in their stead." Spoke an older man with sunken eyes and a long white beard.

"We make soap here and she sends it to be traded in return for food and medicine." The frail woman said with a smile. "Heaven knows where she gets the strength. It can be hard sometimes, but we lead simple lives and we don't need much."

Artyom looked back towards the tunnel he had come from; at the soft glow of light from inside the supply room. He felt somewhat empathetic, having no idea that she basically held the role of station master. At first he thought of them more as a bandit clan, and perhaps they wanted to be seen as such by the majority. But in actuality the structure and purpose of their group was just as in any other station; defense, trading, and normal day to day life.

"How exactly does that work, then? What about when they leave to do the trading?" Artyom asked, hoping his question wouldn't be seen as too prying.

"Well you probably know about Paveletskaya, people hardly go through there, and on the other side of us is a dead end. Nobody bothers us because nobody really knows we are here. Even if Aleks and her men leave, they always leave someone to help us."

"I see." Artyom remained quiet after that.

The others chatted on for a bit, speculating about the next trade exchange and their soap production. It sounded like a very similar operation to the tea factory at VDNKh. He wondered where the workers from his station had gone, and if they had managed to set up shop elsewhere. Exhibition tea hadn't become any more expensive that he noticed, so they must have been able to resume their manufacture. What he wouldn't give to work a simple shift at the tea factory with Zhenya, chatting about what life was like in just the next station over, let alone the opposite end of the line.

"Well, it's getting to be late. Good luck on your journey tomorrow." The blonde man clapped Artyom on the shoulder, the other hand held the kettle and he offered him one last cup.

"It was nice to have met you!" said the tan woman as she rose from her seat.

"Thank you, I enjoyed talking with you all." Artyom refused the cup but expressed his gratitude.

Everyone around the fire wandered off to their respective tents and Artyom looked around the station, it seems everyone had decided to go to bed at the same time as there was nobody near the kitchen and even all the children had gone home from playing on the floor. The large clocks in the station had long ceased to tell time, and so he didn't have any idea what the hour actually was, though his body told him it was beginning to yearn for slumber.

He stood up and walked back to his tent, taking in the statements he had just heard from the residents of Avtozavodskaya. He had no idea that they made soap, and only now was he becoming curious; he should have asked more about it while he had the chance. Perhaps he would ask Nikolai about it in the morning. He dared to think of Nikolai as a friend for a moment before remembering that he didn't really know him. Although his demeanor hadn't changed much after going into that room, he definitely hadn't introduced himself as a Revolutionist mercenary either.

Artyom looked again to the glow of the supply room, wondering if anyone was still there at this hour. Of course there probably was someone on watch at all hours somewhere, but he remembered what the woman had said about being anonymous, so they couldn't be anticipating anyone coming down the tunnel that they didn't invite. This station seemed eerily absent of mutants or rats, although initially Artyom had been comforted by the relative cleanliness he also recalled what Bourbon had said long ago about the absence of even rats from an area. It was usually a sign that something more sinister was lurking about.

Lost in his thoughts, he found himself walking to the edge of the platform. Stopping himself at the top of the metal stairway that led down beside the tracks, he felt his body tense. He remained as still and silent as he could possibly manage, hoping to hear a voice or a sign that someone was inside the supply room. There seemed to be no sign of the two brothers or Aleks, and yet the light was still on. He stirred himself, willing his feet to descend the steps slowly, quietly.

Creeping up towards the doorway he pressed himself against the concrete wall and listened again. There was no talking, no footsteps or shuffling, but there was a faint sound echoing back at him. It sounded like someone was crying, it didn't take him long to figure out who.

He took a deep breath and looked back at the station, wanting to make himself turn back, but he couldn't make his feet turn around. He couldn't ignore the fact that she had been upset by the news that he had brought to her, and he was still uncertain of her exact involvement with Hunter. But he felt responsible, too responsible to turn away. It didn't seem like anyone was with her inside, so perhaps this was his chance to find out what he wanted to know when she wasn't pressured to stay strong in front of her comrades.

Swallowing a mouthful of saliva, he set his foot inside the doorway. Slowly inching forward, he stopped again before the opening to the room. He looked to the left, where the room was shallow, and saw nothing, so he very carefully leaned inside and looked to the right. There she sat facing the back wall, her head in her hands, and strands of red hair covering her face. She sobbed forcefully, covering her mouth to muffle the sound of her sharp breathing.

Stepping fully into the room he knew he needed to make himself known somehow, but quietly, so as not to startle her or incite anger for his intrusion. He made his next step more forceful, making sure the heel of his boot hit the concrete hard enough to make a noise.

Aleksandrya gasped and looked up at him with such fear and guilt that Artyom had to look away. She immediately started wiping her face with her sleeve, straightening her hair with the other hand.

"I'm sorry." Artyom squeaked, holding his hands out as if to show he was unarmed.

"No, no. This has nothing to do with-" She stopped herself short, attempting to get a hold of herself.

There was a long moment of silence, during which Artyom was sure she would turn spiteful and tell him to leave the room. Yet, she remained seated and staring at the floor.

"Would you like to sit?" She gestured to a chair across from her.

Artyom said nothing, but hesitantly went to sit down. He silently cursed himself for not turning around when he had the chance. It was hard for him to admit that he was more apprehensive of this woman's emotions than any battle he had ever faced; knowing for sure that her reactions were somehow his fault. He looked her over for a moment; she had discarded some of her armor pieces and simply wore her grey fatigues, vest, and boots. She began to look up at him and he turned his gaze to the side, hoping she hadn't noticed him staring.

"What station are you from, Artyom?" She spoke quietly, watching his face and probably searching for eye contact. After a minute had passed and he hadn't answered her, she spoke again. "I used to live at Tverskaya."

"You lived in Reich?" Artyom was surprised, and looked back at her without even remembering that he had been trying to avoid her gaze. Her face was gentle and pink, irritated from her tears, but it made her look so striking. There was nothing more honest than staring into her eyes in this moment, as she was unable to hide her emotions from him.

"I lived there with my mother, we were in Chekhovskaya at first but then after a few years they made that mostly for military, so Tverskaya was for families." Aleks pressed her hands between her knees, seeming somewhat uncomfortable, but bit her lip and then attempted to smile. "Was."

"What happened there?" Artyom ventured, genuinely curious. Not particularly in her story, but more about Reich as a whole.

"You tell me first." Her expression flattened. He had almost forgotten that she had started this conversation with a question.

"I'm from Exhibition."Artyom paused, not knowing if she would have known where or what that was. "Where they make the good tea."

"You are a long way from home, then." She eyed him with a hint of suspicion.

"No one is there anymore, I don't think." His shoulders fell slack in synch with the sinking in his heart at the thought.

"Because of your Dark Ones." She had probably meant it as a question, but her tone gave the impression that she knew something about it. Whether she had meant to blame him or just to speak of known facts was unclear to him.

"All of it is my fault." Artyom whispered, barely audible. Here he had come to investigate the sound of her sorrow and he was beginning to wallow in his own.

Aleks looked up at him somewhat with pity and somewhat with disbelief, her hand lifted as if to get his attention but then it fell back to her lap. She was biting at her lip again, attempting to decide whether to console him or to continue the conversation. Letting out another breath, she straightened in her chair and looked directly at him.

"What you don't know, what hardly anybody knows, is that the Fuhrer is strict about mutations because he was one of the first to experience it." Apparently she had decided to continue the other part of her story without provocation. "His wife was pregnant when this madness began, and she gave birth to a mutant child. From then on he was increasingly paranoid, even perfectly normal people are abominations in his eyes. Even tiny children who don't know anything… and then the parents get blamed too."

Artyom watched her eyes as she talked, even though she wasn't looking at him now. There was a resentful longing in the steel blue color, tears gathered and then waned without falling. She had shed enough of them in memory of her past, having to relive it so many times. Who knows what she had witnessed in her years, she seemed to be about the same age as him, and he had seen more than enough of pain and death to last a lifetime.

"He left the child to die and then locked his hysterical wife away, blaming her for some other crime! He was so terrified that it had come from his genes and he was in such denial." Aleks shook her head and closed her eyes in shame for her former station's leader.

As she shook her head and placed it in her hands, her brass pendant came loose from her vest and swung on its black string.

"The cartridge." Artyom pointed his finger at it. "Did Hunter give that to you?"

Aleks locked eyes with him and they expressed distrust. Tucking the necklace back into her shirt, she very slowly nodded her head as an affirmative.

"How did you meet him?" Artyom asked forcefully, unable to contain his curiosity any longer. He convinced himself to smooth his expression, trying to convey to her that he wasn't going to hurt her or make any movement so that she would answer him.

"Hunter," she said his name warmly, as if he was standing next to her. "Hunter met me."

Artyom readjusted himself in his chair, leaning his head onto his arm propped on the adjacent table with intent to listen to every word she said about him as if it were the words of the gods.

"Ivanovich sent the message through, so I'll take the next watch—" Nikolai began to report as he stepped into the room. The look of shock on his face subsided quickly into what looked like annoyance or disgust. Artyom hoped it wasn't all directed towards him. "What's going on?"

"I was asking Artyom about the situation at Hanza. He would know the route to Polis better than us." Aleks sat back in her chair and crossed one leg over the other; she looked very authoritative with an air of passive aggression, probably putting that mental armor back on for Nikolai.

"Right, and?" Nikolai pressed, walking over to the two and standing almost between their chairs.

"It's business as usual there, nothing serious lately." Artyom attempted to seem casual and knowledgeable, leaning back in his chair in the same fashion as Aleks did.

"Good, so we'll try our luck getting in at Paveletskaya and go from there." Aleks stood up abruptly and took a side-step around Nikolai. "You should get some rest, Artyom. We'll wake you when we are forming up."

Artyom nodded and rose to his feet, gazing back at her knowing smile he felt compelled to smile back. He cautiously followed her subtle cues to be smooth around Nikolai who was staring at him quite sternly. Nodding his head at her suggestion he mumbled a quick 'Goodnight' and left the room. Heading back to his tent for the night he continued to smile to himself. It was comforting to have spoken with Aleksandrya at leisure, and not under the pressure of an official interrogation. Knowing that she was just as human and vulnerable as any other person was humbling, and he slept that night with no trepidation.


	6. Sturmann

**Chapter Six:**

"Wake up Ranger. We're heading out." A deep gravelly voice penetrated his dreamless sleep.

Artyom blinked his sleepy eyes open, squinting at the light of the lantern the speaker was holding. He was an impressively large man, with a shaved head and grey stubble. He wore a reinforced version of the gray fatigues and armor that the rest of Roten Spaten was dressed in.

"Who-?" Artyom began, but the man seemed to understand what he was about to ask.

"Ivanovich. Put these on." The man brandished a set of grey clothes like his own. "Bring yours to the office."

Artyom caught the clothes as they landed at his feet, and Ivanovich disappeared before he could say another word. Closing the tent flap, Artyom quickly undressed and slipped on the new fatigues. They were well worn, but clean, and smelled like they had been freshly laundered. He wondered if he should put his own vest back on, but running his fingers over the painted Spartan name, he decided against it.

Bundling up his urban camouflage and vest together, he pulled his boots on and smoothed out the blanket over the cot for the next guest. He gathered his effects and left the tent, heading for the supply room that Ivanovich had called the office. Assuming that Aleks would issue him armor if he required it, he stopped himself from worrying about not having his own uniform on.

As he approached the doorway to the supply room he could hear several voices inside preparing themselves for the journey. Artyom considered knocking or speaking, but there was such a commotion that he thought it best to just enter the corner of the room silently and wait to be noticed.

"Because, if anybody sees all of us surrounding a Spartan they will assume that either we are holding him hostage or—" Aleks was ranting, tying up the strings of her armored corset and adjusting her shoulder plates.

"Or that we're protecting him while he does something worse." Nikolai finished for her, shooting an annoyed look over to Dmitri who had probably just asked the same question that Artyom had been thinking of.

Now fully understanding why they gave him the grey uniform, he took a step forward to where Ivanovich was standing against the wall with a green vest in his hands.

"Oh good, you're awake!" Nikolai said with the same enthusiasm he had in his voice at Novokuznetskaya. "Here, put your things in here."

Nikolai brought Artyom's own rucksack over to one of the tables and pushed it towards him. Artyom immediately put his Ranger uniform away and turned to Ivanovich who was holding out the vest to him.

"Guten morgen." Aleks said to Artyom in German, showing him a weak smile.

There was no trace of the melancholic memories that she had displayed the previous evening, and Artyom was somewhat glad that she seemed to be feeling better but at the same time knew that it meant she would probably resume her hardened and stoic attitude.

From a tall metal locker in the far corner of the room, Dmitri removed four automatic rifles and distributed them to his comrades. They apparently all had their own allowances for ammunition, as Aleks, Ivanovich and Nikolai began loading their weapons with new magazines. Artyom wondered why Dmitri had slung his rifle over his shoulder without loading it.

"Is everyone ready?" Aleks stood tall in the middle of the room, looking to the four men around her for their replies as she adjusted her rucksack on her back.

"Let's go." Dmitri answered first, to Artyom's surprise.

Ivanovich and Nikolai nodded their response and Artyom led the way onto the tracks and stopped. Dmitri then headed the group, which Artyom had been expecting of him, and Nikolai followed his brother closely. Aleks remained behind with Ivanovich at her side and Artyom was beginning to think more about how it would look if he were still wearing his blue camouflage uniform, a prisoner, and he began to feel like one as Ivanovich gestured for him to walk ahead of them.

There was no further talk or instruction and Artyom began to wonder how Roten Spaten as a group displayed themselves to outsiders. He much preferred Nikolai's persona of the friendly trader, even if Dmitri didn't sell his attitude as well as his brother. At the very least, he hoped there would be some kind of conversation soon, or it was going to be a very long trip. He tried to remember how long it felt like to travel through Hanza with Ulman, but then all he could think about was losing his partner at the church. Artyom sincerely hoped that Ulman had made it back into Oktyabrskaya alive and unharmed and he did his best to turn his worry into drive to keep walking.

As before, they came up to Paveletskaya without stopping, only this time the residents didn't seem interested in seeing who was coming through. Most of them fled from the platform edge and disappeared into the darkness. Roten Spaten had most likely scared them somehow, at least from moving down into their station, but even if they didn't, who wouldn't be scared by their appearance? Artyom noticed how carefully they had worked to make themselves look like a regular bandit clan like those at Venice or Kitai-Gorod. They bore the same spade symbol, only in a different color, red, which had become their calling card.

He watched Nikolai and Dmitri marching ahead, both brothers wore more armor and pouches now that they could be themselves, when before all they wore was their grey clothes and large packs. Glancing back at Aleks and Ivanovich he also noted the improvisions that they had made with their outfits respectively. Ivanovich was attempting to be more of a heavy soldier than the others, with a very thick olive drab body vest with extensions over his shoulders and several attached pouches for extra ammunition or other supplies.

Aleks was already specialized in her own right, being female for one meant that she couldn't wear the same bulky square armor that he had seen on every kind of soldier from Prospekt Mira to Park Kultury. She must have made most of her clothing herself, because it fit her body perfectly. One could still tell she had a fine form even beneath layers of fabric and leather. She had even crafted a heavy brown cloak to conceal immediate recognition of her gender, which she was just now pulling over her shoulders.

"Hanza isn't much further." Aleks said when she noticed Artyom looking back at her. "We have to cross over and then go down through a side-passage. It's closed off from Paveletskaya on this side today."

"You all have passports?" Artyom inquired, letting himself fall back a few steps.

"They aren't visas, but it shouldn't be a problem."

Ivanovich stepped past them, beyond both Dmitri and Nikolai, and posted up against a doorway on the right side a few yards ahead of the group. Artyom guessed it to be the side passage that led to the lower track of the Koltsevaya Ring line. He would have liked to talk more but Aleks had quickened her step to reach the others and left him several paces behind. The four members of Roten Spaten flanked the doorway and waited for him to catch up.

Here, Dmitri stepped through the door first and nearly leapt down the coiling stairway to the bottom. Aleks followed with Ivanovich and Nikolai put a strong hand to Artyom's back, almost pushing him forward into the passage. Several meters they spiraled down the concrete shaft until all had reached the bottom. They then marched single-file along a long hall and left and right through a few mechanical type rooms. The place became a maze in Artyom's mind, though he could tell that his companions must have travelled this way often enough to have it memorized. Perhaps that's why they took him this way – so that he couldn't remember how to get back to them. Eventually, they climbed another tall spiraling stairway and came out onto a new set of tracks.

Looking to the left, Artyom could see the bright spotlights that marked the Hanza border, to the right there was a long tunnel that curved left and downwards. He knew that was the way to Novokuznetskaya because he had already come through this way with Nikolai and Dmitri the first time. Interestingly, he hadn't noticed the door that they had just come through, but now he understood that the maze of rooms they had gone through served as their shortcut, so that they didn't have to cross the Hanza border to the Greater Metro.

Aleks gave a nod to Dmitri and Ivanovich, who walked off towards the checkpoint without a word. The remaining three of them waited for a minute before heading in the same direction.

"Papers, please!" Someone yelled from between the two searchlights.

Artyom noticed a short line of people ahead of them, but didn't see Dmitri or Ivanovich amongst them. He cast a confused look over at Aleks, who did nothing but take her passport from her pants pocket and motion for him to do the same. Nikolai kept right behind them, and Artyom couldn't tell if he was being paranoid or if he always protected Aleks so closely outside of their home station.

Dmitri suddenly reappeared as if he had shifted though the wall. Artyom caught a glimpse of his concerned expression before he pulled Aleks aside and turned his back to them.

"We can't go through this way, boss." Dmitri's voice was hushed.

Nikolai and Ivanovich closed in next to Artyom, and he got the unsettling and nauseous feeling that something bad was about to happen. Aleks craned her head over Dmitri's shoulder, first glancing at Artyom and then trying to see to the head of the line.

"Sturmann is inside with a patrol." Dmitri clenched his fists and sneered.

"Fuck, alright." Aleks tapped her fingers on her passport, breathing through clenched teeth, and Artyom could almost see the gears turning inside her head, trying to come up with an alternative plan. "Alright."

She turned on her heel, heading down the tunnel away from the lights, each man following her without hesitation or question. After a few steps she broke into a run and the company all kept pace.

"Who's Sturmann?" Artyom panted, following just behind Ivanovich, with the brothers bringing up the rear.

"You ask too many questions." Ivanovich grunted with a scowl.

"He's a Nazi spy; they send him after defectors and refugees. There's no tolerance for any citizen who leaves the Reich." Nikolai informed him with an expressionless face.

"So they've been, what, searching for Aleksandrya since she left Tverskaya?" Artyom fell back a step to continue the conversation with Nikolai.

"She escaped Tverskaya. They don't let people leave." Dmitri said in a growl, his expression was one of anger and determination.

Artyom's eyes went wide, searching for Aleks who was way ahead of the pack. He had no suspicions that she was a refugee being hunted down by the Nazis like a criminal. She kept running, all the way into Novokuznetskaya where she slowed just before coming into view of its citizens so as not to cause a panic.

Resting against the edge of the platform she stood catching her breath, pushing her hair back into place. Artyom caught up to her with the others and only watched for her actions, thinking it best not to ask any questions in this moment. Her breathing was returning to normal and she looked at each of her soldiers but avoided Artyom's curious eyes.

"Looks like we are going to have to go the long way…" She breathed.

"The only other way is through the Red line." Nikolai motioned behind him, as if the Communist territory were right on the other side of the tunnel wall.

"I know. If we can get to Revolution Square then the only hard part is getting to the Library - but at that point we would have to let Artyom go first." Now she looked back at Artyom, seemingly judging from his expression if he would be up to the task or not.

"It might only work if they thought it was for ransom. Otherwise they would never believe that one Ranger caught four of us by himself." Nikolai thought out loud. Artyom wasn't very keen on the idea, but it might be their only hope.

"You don't think trying to go through Oktysabrskaya would be okay? Was it just the one guy?" Artyom supposed, looking to each of the faces of his companions and judging their expressions to be not in favor of his idea.

"Where there is one Nazi fuck, there is more." Dmitri spat.

"Alright let's stop talking and just get it done." Aleks said sternly, like a mother scolding her children. She didn't hesitate to start walking again.

The tunnel leading from Novokuznetskaya towards Venice was extremely dark and moist, pipes dripped and the wooden cross ties were slick. In reality this was because the melting snow and ice from nuclear winter was overwhelming the drainage system that kept the subterranean rivers at bay. Artyom wondered how long it would take before the flooding reached the next station or the station after that, and perhaps one day their entire underground world would be drowned out by the irradiated waters.

In reality, almost half of Novokuznetskaya was already under at least a foot of water, but the left hand tunnel they remained on had a makeshift barrier past the platform that served as a sort of dock for boats. Aleks quickly handed a magazine full of shiny military grade rounds to whom Artyom guessed to be the ferryman and then beckoned the men to come forward.

"It's going to take two trips." The old ferryman with long gray hair wheezed, looking at the five of them suspiciously.

"Ivanovich, you're with me and Artyom. If anything happens, we meet at Polis." Aleks stepped onto the boat and put a hand on her hip, reinforcing her authority.

"Don't cause any trouble or I'll swim after you." Nikolai teased, but had a serious look on his face.

Dmitri rolled his eyes at his brother, and simply gave a short salute towards Aleks.

Ivanovich nodded his understanding and all but dragged Artyom onto the boat. It was at this point that all of Roten Spaten drew their machine guns. The anticipation in the room hung like a fog among the group and Artyom suddenly wondered if his brand new AK from D6 was even still in his pack. He felt around for it with one hand but didn't find it. Aleks gave a salute back to the brothers as the ferryman pushed off from the dock and steered down the flooded tunnel.

Without word or warning, Aleks took out Senya's silenced Tokarev and pressed the barrel into Artyom's chest. Although he had hardly felt the motion from beneath his armored vest, he didn't know whether or not the vest could stop even a silenced round. Had he really come all this way only to be shot dead? His eyes pleaded, confused, looking for some kind of explanation from Aleks but her face was like stone. Her eyes, though, expressed a certain sense of hopefulness.

"If you turn this gun on me, then you will never find out what's inside this cartridge." Aleks slid the barrel from his vest and used it to point to the pendant that Hunter had given her before turning it around in her hand and offering it to him. "I am trusting you, Artyom."

As if he needed any more convincing than her warning, he felt the cold blue eyes of Ivanovich piercing into him. Silently nodding his head, he took the weapon from her and strapped the holster to his belt. Running his fingers over the cold metal, he welcomed the small piece of the fallen Ranger's memory back into his possession, silently breathing a sigh of relief that she hadn't actually intended to shoot him and had only aimed at him to reinforce her message. Still, Artyom hoped things would become a little less dramatic as they continued on their journey.


	7. The Venice Incident

**Author's Note: **I apologize for the delay in uploading this chapter. I was extremely sick last week following my sister's wedding, and then there was the Thanksgiving Holiday (My husband and I cooked!) So please do forgive me. I have not lost interest in this story, I promise! I really appreciate my new followers, thank you so much for your interest!

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><p><strong>Chapter Seven:<strong>

The old ferryman navigated the small boat nimbly as they floated amongst quite a lot of debris and parts of the collapsed tunnel walls. Most of the passageway had been reinforced with crude wooden beams, making the ceiling seem even lower and constricting. There wasn't much room to stand up, as the water level was almost half the height of the enclosed space. The water itself was particularly disgusting, in its depths Artyom could see parts of sunken boats, lost baggage, weaponry, and bones of unknown beings- all covered in green slime.

Ivanovich had taken a knee and propped his rifle up in his arms; Aleks was still standing but kept her head down and hunched her shoulders. After almost getting smacked in the head by a wooden beam, Artyom decided to crouch. He definitely didn't want to end up in that water.

Fortunately, this leg of the journey was short. Each of them was beginning to lose track of their speed with the tunnel being so curvy and dark, with the only light coming from the lantern hanging next to the ferryman at the rudder. They were coming now to a gate that separated them from the station, and after speaking a few words of greeting, the man controlling the gate opened it to them. Artyom noted how even the main island platform inside the station was covered over by the murky water. More wooden docks and barriers had been built all around the edges of the area, with high walkways above them in the main vestibule.

Steering around a few men fishing from their own rigs, they docked in the heart of the recreational district. There was a small restaurant above them on a catwalk and the brothel with its red spotlights shone behind them. Residents came and went and there was much activity and chatter.

Aleks disembarked first, stepping onto the walkway and looked to both sides warily. Ivanovich turned only his head and spoke to Artyom with a jerk of it, making sure he got off the boat next before joining them on the dock.

"Alright, let's find Semyon while we wait and see if there's any news. Then we can get some pirozhki before we head out." Aleks spoke in a low voice, placing her rifle into the sling on her back.

"They make pirozhki here?" Artyom asked excitedly, trying to sniff out the location of the delight.

"Best you've ever had." She glanced over at him with a one sided smile.

Artyom now felt warm inside, he couldn't remember the last time he had enjoyed such a delicacy as pirozhki. The fluffy egg dough with potato and cabbage inside reminded him of special occasions at home. Even his stepfather Sukhoi would sometimes bring him some if he had been exploring or on business for a long time, as if to make up for being away from him.

Ivanovich gave a nod in response to the ferryman as he pushed the boat away from the dock, having made brief mention of when he would be back with the other two members of their convoy. Aleks then immediately set off, seeming to know exactly where she was going. Artyom followed behind her quickly so as not to provoke Ivanovich to push him onwards. They wound their way past the bar and brothel and towards the open market in the next area of the divided station, having to use the upper walkway to cross over.

"Hey!" A rough voice called from between the arches. "You got some nerve!"

"Fuck." Aleks whispered under her breath, stepping back into Artyom and pushing him behind Ivanovich's large frame for cover.

Artyom would have protested, but he actually found it a bit funny that she was able to move him at all. He smiled to himself, recognizing a certain willingness to comply with her.

"You got a problem?" Ivanovich growled, stepping ahead of the two of them.

"Yeah, I got a problem with your boss. Thinking he owns the place, like he can just order us around." A scrawny man approached wearing a strangely adorned grey jacket that had the white version of the spade symbol on it. Several more men dressed similarly to him began to gather around after hearing the commotion.

Artyom glanced around at all the people who had turned their attention to the situation unfolding, gripping at Aleks's shoulder so as not to fall backwards as she was still pushing against him. She abruptly turned around, grabbing onto his arm, nearly running in the opposite direction with him in tow.

"We don't take threats from assholes like him, so you can tell him to step off. This is our ground!" The scrawny man yelled.

Ivanovich replied in kind, but he was quickly out of earshot as the crowd of spectators swallowed them up as they flew back down the catwalk and out of sight. Artyom only concentrated on the feel of Aleks's hand gripping his arm because whichever side she put more pressure on was the way that they were about to turn. Going around the next corner they were now in a back alley where there were small shanties built of wooden pallets and corrugated plastic.

Aleks put her back to the very corner of this hall, taking a few deep breaths. Artyom had been released a few paces from her and could only look in the direction they had come from, wondering what was going on now.

"You're just going to leave him out there alone?" Artyom asked of Aleks, suddenly fearing for Ivanovich's safety amongst the pack of criminals.

"He's not a child, Andrei can handle himself. That is why I chose him when I stared this company." She replied with an arrogant look.

Artyom didn't speak again, he just kept watching around the corner to see if he could spot anything. Venturing too far elicited a whisper from Aleks, commanding him to return to the shadows.

"Does this kind of thing happen every time you leave home?" Artyom asked, wondering not only about the hostility of this area of the Metro in general, but also what sort of information Aleks would give him about her personal experience. He imagined her to be an elite spy, pulling the strings from behind a curtain but rarely stepping foot on stage.

"Sometimes." She mused, staring at the floor, and then decided he deserved a better answer. "For Venice, it is always hostile even when it looks quiet. These idiots are always up to something, thievery usually, or scheming to do something worse. We just try to stay one step ahead of them."

"What about guards? Can't the station master do anything to stop them?"

"There aren't any guards. This place is like—"

Aleks's words were silenced by the sound of semi-automatic gunfire. Four shots rang out and there was a minute of absolute silence in the area. Both Artyom and Aleks bolted to the corner of the passage, eyes wide and searching for answers, but all that was seen was a panic – people fleeing in terror in all directions, screaming and yelling to each other. Two men came out from the brothel, blocking the entrance to the stairway that led inside, Artyom recognized from their stance that they were acting as security guards for the women inside.

Grasping on to Artyom's arm again, Aleks pulled him forward, pushing their way back through the crowd again, but now in the opposite direction. They had just run away from a potential fight and yet were now running towards the sound of gunfire. It seemed extremely strange to Artyom for the moment he had to wonder before his initial fear for Ivanovich's well-being surfaced again. He hoped that Ivanovich had been the one to shoot first, at least to protect himself, but also deeply hoped that no one had been hurt. He hoped it had just been some warning shots to scare off the bandits he had been arguing with.

Artyom finally caught step with Aleks so that she wasn't tugging on him anymore. She yelled fiercely at people to move, and then began shoving them sideways so that they could get through. He almost expected her to pull out her own pistol for effect- to fire her own warning shots- but people began to step aside when they realized that the two were going the opposite way.

There had since been silence as far as weaponry was concerned, which only made the pair forge forward even faster to see what had happened. Entering back into the market area was nearly impossible. People ran about, scattering like rats in a bright light, their panicked cries blocking out all other sounds. A fire had caught from some place in the back corner of the shops and people had abandoned the area ten feet around it, no one was even trying to put it out. It almost maddened Artyom, thinking it also a little bit ironic that a station flooded with water could even catch on fire in the first place.

Aleks swung her head back and forth, searching every corner as rapidly as she could for her comrade, but there was no sign of any of the men involved in the prior quarrel. They paused for a moment in the middle of the space, seemingly in the eye of the storm of residents and bandits alike rushing around them in circles. Artyom glanced down, noticing a smear of fresh blood on the metal grate beneath their feet, he pulled at Aleks's sleeve to get her attention and she followed his gaze, looking back up at him in pained horror.

"Aleks!" Called an unfamiliar voice from the other side of the market.

"Semyon!" Aleks called back, looking around for the source of the man she had mentioned meeting with earlier.

"Come this way! You have to leave!" A man stood across the canal waving both hands above his head. He was wearing a strange and heavy looking camouflage uniform with a yellow rubbery tunic and a black knit hat.

They began pushing again, trying to skirt past the crowd, but the ever increasing shuffle of bodies prevented them from using the walkway. Aleks looked across the way, and then jerked her head to the side, motioning for Artyom to follow her as she jumped over the barricade and onto one of the wooden boats in the middle of the canal. She hopped onto an adjacent boat and then another, crossing the gap between them and Semyon by alternative means.

"Where is Andrei?" Aleks called as they climbed onto the far walkway. She glanced behind her to make sure Artyom was still there.

"I haven't seen him, were you all here together?" Semyon glanced at Artyom curiously. "It doesn't matter now, you have to go. This way, they are loading the boats to Kitai Gorod now!"

Before either of them could ask any more questions or protest, Semyon had turned to lead them into the next section of the station. Aleks glanced over at Artyom with an apologetic look and she silently shook her head. Having conveyed that she was not expecting their journey through this area to have turned out this badly, Artyom could only stare back at her. He was panicked, too, on the inside, but wanted to show his own resolve and tact in the face of this disaster, at least to keep from worrying her more.

"I can't just leave him here, he could be hurt! Didn't you see what happened? There was blood!" Aleks yelled forward, trying to stop every few steps to talk to Semyon but he never ceased his quickened pace.

"He can take care of himself. You are more important." Semyon turned his head back to her with a solemn smile.

Rounding the next corner of the wooden walkway, they came into the next area which was entirely flooded and built up with boat docks and a few more shanties placed sporadically. People gathered here were a bit more organized, quietly moving packages and organizing themselves and their few belongings onto different boats.

"Nikolai and Dmitri are still on the ferry." Aleks grabbed at Semyon's arm, trying to make him stop and turn to talk to her.

"I'll see to them after you go. I'll make sure they are kept out of this mess." Semyon attempted again to smile and reassure her.

"I won't just leave them here!" Aleks nearly screamed at him. Artyom thought it was touchingly impressive that she would risk injury or death for her soldiers, he could indentify completely.

"You must! I have a boat for you, but they won't wait much longer. Look, I will tell them where you've gone, but please, you have to go now before someone recognizes you." Semyon had finally turned and had taken both her shoulders in his large hands, trying to impress on her the gravity of the situation that had unfolded.

Artyom could swear he saw tears in her eyes as she nodded back to him. He wondered where the two had met, and only now recognized that he must also be another emplaced member of Roten Spaten. He probably fed her information about the movements of bandits and criminals in Venice – that's what she had meant by staying one step ahead of them.

Semyon stepped back and waved them towards the edge of the dock, one last boat remained and the passengers called to them to hurry and board so that they could go. Aleks looked back at Artyom once more and they headed for the boat together, kneeling down on the edge and pushing the boat away from the dock with their feet. Semyon gave a salute before disappearing back from the way they had come.

The man steering was an older gentleman with some fishing gear hanging from pockets on his old mesh military vest. He wore plain clothes but with tall rubber boots. He hit the switch for the electric motor as they entered the main tunnel away from the station. The tall gate on this side was already open, the operator waving them on with a look of concern.

"Last one out!" Called the fisherman, and the operator nodded his head and closed the gate once they had passed through.

Artyom looked back, heaving a breath of relief, he'd hardly had time to process the whirlwind of events that had just progressed in the last few minutes, let alone how this might change the rest of their journey back to Polis. He looked over at Aleks, who sat slightly rocking with the motion of the water, her gaze fixed back toward the station, eyes glassed over and not even blinking. In any other situation, he would consider her shell shocked, but he knew she was just worried about the rest of her company. She was probably more surprised than Artyom at the turn of events, as he knew she probably visited through this area often given her knowledge of it. He assumed that nothing like this had ever happened to her before, and she was left contemplating where she might have gone wrong.


	8. Wrong Side of the Barricade

**Chapter Eight:**

The boat whirred along quietly despite the air of uncertainty hanging around them. People mumbled to themselves and clung to their companions, thankful to have escaped unscathed but sad to have left their station in such a state. Artyom gathered from their murmurings that they intended to return to Venice in a few hours after the chaos had died down. Apparently it was a normal thing - at least for this group - to sail out of the area when things turned bad and wait for it to blow over. Perhaps that was the only way to cope when one lived in a station mostly occupied and governed by freely roaming criminals.

Artyom looked over at Aleks, who hadn't moved since they had climbed aboard the raft. She sat in silence as they left behind every contact they'd been travelling with. Now the two were truly on their own, and she couldn't turn to her followers for support. Artyom wondered how resilient she was when alone; did she know anything at all about combat tactics or about travelling around the many places in this small underground world? Why would she press on with just himself for company when she was already extremely distrustful of him?

"Can I ask you something?" Artyom said softly, unable to contain his curiosity.

"You just did." Aleks answered without moving anything but her lips. She was still staring blankly behind them, even as the tunnel curved and the scenery changed, her eyes remained fixed.

Artyom ignored her sarcasm; he had come to expect it by now.

"Why come all this way? What is your business in Polis?" For a moment he thought it to be too personal a question, but after another moment of her stillness he felt it was a justified inquiry. He had endured enough of just going along with whomever the world decided he should befriend to places he had no business going to. He rather felt that she owed him some more answers, especially after just escaping from that misfortune in Venice. Still curious, and determined to have answers, he ventured further. "What does it say in the capsule?"

It was now that Aleks turned to meet his gaze, and a spark of that same melancholic and resentful fire burned inside her gray blue orbs. She took a deliberate breath and grasped the pendant in a fist, as if protecting it from assailants unknown.

"So you know it's a note then, anyway. Did you ever see what was on the one he gave you?"

Artyom narrowed his eyes, both annoyed that he had never been told what was in his own cartridge, and also trying to communicate without words to Aleksandrya that he wasn't going to speak until she had answered him first. He was quickly becoming a more successful conversationalist, because her expression softened and she continued.

"Inside, on the paper, there are two names signed: Hunter's… and my own." She always spoke his name as if he were nearby, with trepidation but also hope.

"What, that's all?" Artyom was puzzled. It didn't seem very significant by itself.

"Well think about it. He gave you something similar, yes? You did as he asked and went to Polis and now you are a Ranger of the Order." She showed him a sarcastic smile.

"I was just delivering his message." He explained in a low tone of voice, almost disdainfully. He had in fact felt pressured to do as Hunter requested because he had confessed his secret to him about being the one to leave the barrier open to the Dark Ones. It was damn near blackmail, in fact.

"As am I." Her voice trailed off and she resumed staring in the direction they had come from.

Artyom followed her example, hoping that emulating her pensive bearing would help him come to his own conclusions. Although he wanted to continue on his streak of successful dialogue with her, he wasn't sure what he was supposed to ask next. He had never viewed his becoming a Ranger as any type of established or expected reward for doing as Hunter had asked of him. As far as he'd known at the time he was simply delivering the news of his disappearance - telling the commander that his soldier had gone missing - and then Artyom would return home to VDNKh, unless it was written in Artyom's cartridge that the person delivering it should be Hunter's replacement? Was that how the Order operated at the most senior levels? And if so, what was the purpose of Aleksandrya's cartridge? It couldn't possibly have the same meaning as his own.

"Hey you're going the wrong way; we need to go to Revolution Square." Aleks turned around suddenly and pointed down the opposite tunnel for effect.

"We can't go there; some of us are refugees. We go towards Kitai Gorod and wait at the end of the ferry line, and then we go back." The old fisherman looked down at her with a frown.

"Are you kidding? There are mutants on this side of the barricade! And are any of you armed?" Aleks looked around at the faces of the passengers, whose expressions were beginning to turn fearful.

"This is all because of you anyway!" An old woman cried out, being cradled by a younger man who was probably her son. He also nodded in agreement.

"Everything was quiet today until you and your men showed up, I saw it myself!" Another passenger spoke up. All eyes were pointed at Aleks, including Artyom whose eyes were just as wide as the others but for different reasons. First, he was impressed with the fact that these people thought he was part of Roten Spaten and also in wonderment of what Aleks would do next.

"Really, this is what you're doing? Blaming me for all of your problems because you let a pack of wild animals dictate your lives!" Aleks stood up, although not as tall as she might have wanted to, due again to the tunnel being constricted by the flooding.

Artyom moved onto one knee, ready to follow behind Aleks no matter what might happen, or perhaps even to defend her if things went badly again. She was his last remaining companion after all, and he doubted he would be able to get through the Red Line without her or any of his original gear.

Although it wasn't the proper time to be distracted by his thoughts, he remembered that he'd never actually double checked his rucksack for his effects. Certainly Aleks and Roten Spaten couldn't have deprived him of his possessions; at least he knew his Spartan uniform was inside there because he had put it in himself before they left Avtozavodskaya.

Fumbling with his pack, he did his best to keep his eyes on the situation as he rummaged under the flap. Underneath the tough fabric of his uniform, he felt the smooth round form of his helmet and gas mask, a grand prize to be sure! The Spartan helmets were ones specially built with the air filters attached to a visor mask that was hinged in, making a complete package. Behind the helmet he felt the cold steel of his new model machine gun that he had been issued in D6. It was all there, everything he had started out with was still intact and available to him. He unclipped the other strap on the rucksack quickly and began to re-equip himself.

"Fine! It's not like I want to go back to your damned mess of a station anyway!" Aleks retorted, continuing her argument with the passengers. Her voice lowered as she spoke her final and foreboding warning to them. "When the mutants come, remember that you could have had me defending you."

Artyom garnered from her inflection that they were about to be abandoned on the wrong side of Kitai Gorod station, and wouldn't be returning to Venice on the boat. A pang of fear struck his heart as he gazed ahead to where they were about to reach the end of the river. Although nothing was moving, the eerie darkness prevailed. The area was penetrated by a bright ray of light from a hole in the tunnel ceiling, eroded in the middle of the platform by water trickling down from the surface. Remarkably, the consistency of the air did not change as they approached the dock; he would have thought the gaping hole to the open sky would have brought with it a gust of the sludgy atmosphere he had endured in other places outside of the Metro. Still, he lowered the visor of his helmet and sealed it over his face just in case.

Aleks pulled the strap of her own rucksack higher on her shoulder and then put both hands back on her weapon, eagerly awaiting the edge of the platform and perhaps even an encounter with the mutants that she professed were inhabiting this area. It seemed as if she wanted to shoot at something as an excuse to let off steam and to prove to the irritated refugees that she had been right about going down the other tunnel.

The bottom of the boat began to lightly scrape against the crossties beneath them, and Aleks did not hesitate to jump onto the concrete platform at the earliest opportunity. Not even looking back at Artyom she walked straight into the abandoned station vestibule, making a low grunt as she did. He hurried after her, taking a large step from the boat and then paused for a moment to turn back to the passengers. Each of them looked at him with a slightly worried expression, maybe feeling guilty that they were marooning the two strangers in this vacant place alone.

He wanted to say something, or at least thank them for the ride, but then he heard his name echoing distantly off the dirty tile down the hall and simply waved goodbye to the fisherman before turning to follow her voice.

"Stay close. They could jump out at any moment." Aleks whispered once she heard his footsteps close in behind her. Artyom heard the switch on her rifle click off from the safe position.

"Where do we go now?" He whispered, keeping his own rifle pointed to cover their right side, which was the side that was open to the hopefully empty darkness.

"They've built up a huge barricade in the left hand tunnel where there's a bandit hideout. Most of the right tunnel is collapsed, but halfway down the station there's a transfer passage that goes towards Kuznetsky Most. We may be able to get through there." She then switched on the tactical flashlight on the underside of her rifle, its bright yellowish beam quivering with anticipation from the cracked tile wall to the mildew covered ceiling.

"And, if not?" Artyom's voice was suddenly hoarse.

"There's a stairway exit on the other platform that goes to the surface."

Aleks stopped abruptly and held up her right hand; up until now they had been slowly creeping along the damp platform with silent steps.

Artyom turned on his headlamp and put his back to her, straining his ears to listen for any sound other than their breathing, which was hard to do from underneath his helmet. There was a light scratching sound coming from his right, where they had just been walking, and he scanned along the corner where the wall met the floor, searching for movement. He nearly jumped when he felt Alek's hand slip underneath the bottom edge of his armored vest, pulling him as she began to sneak forward again. Why was she always pulling him along behind her? He stepped backwards carefully, not wanting to step on her heels, still scanning every crevice his flashlight could penetrate.

The tension between and around them subsided as silence prevailed, and Aleks released her grasp on his vest and began to walk at a normal pace towards the right tunnel. Turning around to join her, Artyom lit the wall in search of the doorway to the transfer passage while Aleks kept her light scanning the floor and opposite wall for obstacles or enemies.

A light affirmative breath emanated from Artyom's lips when his light reflected on the gray rectangular door they had been searching for, alerting Aleks to its presence. She aimed her weapon and light down the open tunnel to their left, it seemed to stretch on further than Artyom had been imagining when she mentioned that it was collapsed. Finding nothing notable, she lowered her rifle and tried the handle of the door with no success.

"Its rusted shut." She kicked it hard twice, but the door did not give way.

Artyom too, tried the door in vain, and gave a grunt to signal his surrender.

"We'll have to go up." Aleks said with a notable tremor in her voice, her eyes scanning the ceiling as if she could see through it.

Then, a most chilling and unfortunately familiar howl left Artyom's hair standing on end, his whole body was electrified at the sound. He watched in slow motion as Aleks had her weapon aimed, flicked the safety off, and started to walk backwards towards the platform. Artyom could only think to light the way and keep his own weapon ready until she spoke up, not know where the exit was.

"On the left, the hall opens up and there's a switch!" She kept her body close against his, trusting that he was watching for debris and their escape route at the same time.

"I see it!" He called as his flashlight illuminated the yellow box beside the iron barricade.

Aleks took a knee on the other side of the hallway, her eyes watching down her sights into the abyss of the abandoned station. Artyom slung his own rifle over his shoulder as he realized he would need two hands to pry open the cover to the control panel.

"Artyom!" Aleks yelled with fright laced through her voice, indicating that they didn't have much time left before the horde reached them. "I'll try to slow them down!"

Reaching over her shoulder, she pulled a small object from a pocket on her rucksack; Artyom recognized it as some sort of homemade grenade. She pulled off the pin and cast it out onto the open tracks, immediately ducking her head down under both her arms. Artyom was not as quick to react, and found himself wanting to watch the effect; he was only able to tear his eyes away at the last moment to pull the thick lever down to open the door for them.

A flash of fiery light exploded from the center of the area, momentarily illuminating the station and all its disparaging details. The noise of the explosion became nothingness, and after a moment of confused silence, Artyom blinked his eyes several times, the blur finally subsiding but his ears still ringing from the constant noise; the noise of Aleksandrya's machine gun. She was firing blindly into the empty space, screaming at the top of her lungs.

Peering into the darkness peppered with her muzzle fire he could see the reflections of their eyes, the hundred pairs glaring back at them both hungrily. He lunged to the other side of the door for the mechanism and pulled the lever down. The heavy metal barrier began to scrape closed again as the motor whirred and coughed. Aleks had just emptied her magazine and begun to push herself backwards across the floor with her feet.

Without a thought, his arm was around her waist and he was pulling her back along the floor. Her weapon skidded along the hard concrete and she looked as if she might pass out. The door was closing quickly now, Artyom kicked his feet hard against the frame and freed them from its path. It slammed shut with a creak and only then did his muscles relax. He lay back and closed his eyes, breathing heavily.

He could hear Aleks panting now, and felt her breathing against him, he looked her over for signs of injury and finding nothing notable, he started to look over his own body.

"That was close." Aleks almost laughed, drawing her machine gun up against her side, and then cradling it to her chest like a treasured pet or child.

"Yeah..." Artyom breathed. He wanted to speak but didn't know what to say; he was so overwhelmed by the day's turn of events that he'd barely had time to process the misfortune they had been subject to since leaving Avtozavodskaya.

They lay at the bottom of the escalators, the morning haze came down in streams from the ruined ceiling above them, cracked tiles showed through between the patches of moss and vines. Water dripped from one corner of the building down and through the floor to a small room beside them, making a pleasant sound.

"Thanks, for pulling me out." Aleks said quietly, looking down at her weapon. She seemed disappointed, or sad. He couldn't tell which.

He was about to tell her it wasn't a problem, but as he looked over, the light on her face and the red tone in her hair caught his eye and he couldn't look away. He couldn't think of anything else but her, that she was safe, and he was somehow relieved.

"Hey, are you okay, or what?" Her expression changed to worry and then one eyebrow was raised quizzically.

"Y-you need... a mask." He stammered, coming back to reality and helping to pull her gas mask from her bag.

She put it on without a word and then sighed gently, looking up the steps of the escalator. Artyom gathered himself up and straightened his clothing and rucksack, checking that his air filter was fresh and his weapon was still functional. Aleks had begun to ascend the creaky metal steps with great care, and he hurried to catch up with her. He deeply hoped that she knew where to go next, but decided not to voice his concerns. He simply looked ahead, bringing his mind back to that calm moment where only her pale face existed and the concerns of the hostile underground melted away.


	9. The Two Musketeers

**Chapter Nine:**

Aleks stood still at the top of the escalators, looking apprehensively around the enclosure for signs of movement. She pulled one strap of her gas mask tighter and loaded a fresh magazine into her rifle, double checking that the safety was on. She fumbled in a pocket for a small compass and turned it a few times in her hand, periodically looking out into the distance. Artyom assumed she was looking for landmarks that she recognized.

"Have you ever been to the surface before?" Artyom asked. He wanted to put a reassuring hand on her shoulder but restrained himself at the last minute. She seemed anxious, but that could have been because of their encounter with the mutants, not necessarily because they had come into a new hostile environment.

"Just once." She revealed in a somber tone that suggested that she didn't exactly enjoy the sight. "I was with Hunter."

Her revelation calmed her agitated movements, but put Artyom's senses on edge. He tilted his head slightly to the side, wanting to hear more about it. This time, he was concerned with both her history with Hunter and also what her impression of the ruined city was.

"I was furious." She hung her head and sighed, clenching her free hand in a fist. Her words had an increased effect as they stepped to the edges of the crumbling building and looked out over the desecrated remains of the over world. "How could we have done all this?"

"What do you mean?" Artyom scanned his eyes over the dead structures as he always had, not seeing anything more than the obliterated shells of concrete and marble dwellings.

"Humanity, us, people! How could our forefathers have blasted everything we had into oblivion? And even now, we divide ourselves into factions; we wage war against each other in the Metro. We use the very last of our precious resources to continue killing and destroying each other! Look at it! Don't you think we should have learned something from this?" Aleks held out her arm, the palm of her hand flattened to the endless gray sky.

Artyom gazed out upon the landscape with a new perspective. Although understandably saddened by the visage during his other excursions to the surface, he had never fully contemplated the previous chapter of human life and what it had actually been like to live in a world untouched by the fires of war. He understood that he would never truly know what it had been, but now that she had spoken of her bitterness about the subject, he also found himself becoming angry that he had been deprived of that other life that the older residents in the Metro spoke of so fondly.

"You're right." He said simply, trying to compress the enormity of world events and the disaster to fit within the remaining expanse of their underground universe.

Having learned what he could from old textbooks and his stepfather's lessons about the previous world, he recognized that the factions and stations in the Metro represented different countries. Even at this small a scale, the factions and stations continued to endlessly fight over resources, culture, and ethics. Making this connection burned him up inside more than any other conflict he had encountered. He felt stupid, believing his role in his own life was so important, especially once his mission with Melnik and the Dark Ones had become clear. He had marched endlessly forward without question at the time, but all of that seemed so insignificant now in comparison to the vast expanse of ruined lives laid out before them.

"Do you remember any of it?" Aleks asked quietly, breaking the gloomy silence.

Artyom turned to see Aleks watching him with concern.

"No, well, not really. I can barely see it." Artyom squeezed his eyes shut and, with effort, pushed the memory to the forefront of his mind. "I remember… a park with trees. I was there with my mother. She bought me an ice cream. Then we were on the train home, and… it all ended."

"I was very young too. I remember walking with both of my parents in Red Square, it was Christmas time. Did you ever see it? They put up a huge tree with glittering lights all over it." Her voice waned as her visions of it took over.

Standing side by side they stared into the city, now eroding and dim. Artyom tried to imagine every crevice in vivid and beautiful detail, as if nothing had changed.

The distant screech of an unseen demon brought them back into the real world. Aleks took to gazing back at her compass. Artyom blinked a few times, hoping that his vision of the city would return for one more moment, but it was in vain. He checked his watch, it was just about four in the afternoon, and judging by the angle of the sun low in the sky confirmed that he had been diligent about keeping the time correctly. Feeling somewhat proud, he looked over at Aleks who was now scanning a scrap of paper with neat scribbling resembling a homemade map.

"Wherever we're going, we should hurry before it gets too dark." He said in a low voice, apprehensive to the nocturnal activity of mutants and other creatures if they delayed much longer.

It was hard to say whether the surface was more dangerous during the day or the night, as there was a fair amount of nocturnal predators just the same as there were creatures that enjoyed the warmth of the sun.

Aleks nodded her head in agreement, although didn't seem very sure of herself or her directions.

"We'll keep heading for Kuznetsky Most. There is an entrance to Red Square, but it's heavily guarded inside and I don't think we would be welcome without a pass or an escort." She spoke as she took her first hesitant steps onto the street.

"Okay, lead the way." Artyom gave her a reassuring smile, but it wasn't perceptible through the visor of his helmet.

Aleks gave a quick nod of her head, folded up the map neatly, and proceeded down the street to the left of the station entrance. Immediately their path was littered with debris from ruined buildings and abandoned cars, making their route more like a maze. They wound their way two blocks northwest, periodically having to climb over certain objects to continue in the right direction.

They were flanked by the tall skeletons of high rise offices and apartments, most of which had store fronts adorning the lowest level. Artyom could make out a few words from the old signs and advertisements; a corner grocery store, a liquor store, an electronics shop. The few entrances that weren't blocked or collapsed showed him only empty cabinets, bare shelves, and some stores were completely barren, having been stripped of all useful components that were no doubt serving some new purpose down in the Metro.

Metal shelving for instance had a wide variety of uses, depending on if it was a solid sheet or a grated type of shelf. They could be used for barricades or reinforcements of walls, for fortifying or building completely new trolley carts, to make bed frames or even benches. Wooden planks had mostly been burned in the early underground days for warmth, light, and for cooking. It was a rare to find boards that hadn't already been altered or cut in some way. Bottles and cans were emptied and reused, usually for brews of teas and alcohol, but also for medicine and for filtered water. Wires and other electronic components were often disassembled in order to make weapons or repair existing radios, motors, and light systems.

Artyom wondered if those things could have been put to better use, his head still clouded with reflections on the previous conversation. The memory of Nikolai's story about holdovers jumped to his mind. At the beginning of humanity's survival in the Metro, the intention was just that – to survive. Although assuredly curious and eager to return to the surface, there was such fear and misinformation among the survivors even now that Artyom thought it wouldn't have been possible for life to have evolved any other way.

He looked ahead to Aleks, who had stopped and was checking her compass again. It had been nearly an hour since they had ascended to the cluttered streets. The sun teetered on the edge of the horizon, basking the jagged landscape in a golden orange glow. She tucked the instrument away and looked over at him, gesturing at a sizeable pile of rubble. With a hesitant sigh, he hurried to her side, taking the first few steps up the shattered concrete remnants before offering her a hand.

"On the other side is the entrance to Revolution Square, it should be clear but sometimes there's a patrol. Try to stay quiet until we can figure out the situation." Aleks grasped Artyom's outstretched hand with her own. She looked up as if she knew exactly what was on the other side of the wall and could see it.

"Right." Artyom nodded his understanding, squeezing her hand tight and pulling her up to his level once he'd found a stable foothold. "Have you been to this station, too?"

"I passed through here after I, well, after I got out of Reich. It wasn't the best home for a teenage runaway, but it is where I met Nikolai and Dmitri." Aleks continued to climb ahead of him. She was nimble, despite her armor and rucksack.

"They are from the Red Line? How did you meet them?" Artyom was slightly surprised at the fact, but that didn't change his affinity towards the brothers in any way. It answered a lesser query in his mind as to how the noble band of vigilantes met one another, setting another piece of the Roten Spaten puzzle in its place.

"They were traders there, but they actually lived in Okhotny Ryad and visited Teatr and the square regularly to do business."

Artyom wasn't surprised about the brothers' business history, and he nodded his head intently in order to further the conversation.

"After a little while, they told me that they actually worked as spies for the Comrade Commissar. It sounds interesting, being a spy, but it isn't what you might think. They hated it because they were instructed to inform on their neighbors and friends. What you've heard about people snitching on each other there? Well, it's true." Aleks' final statement was spoken with a subdued tone, and it was obvious to Artyom that she would not speak of it further.

He pursed his lips in understanding and disappointment as he gave a solemn nod of his head. He was certainly thankful that he was lucky enough to have lived in an independent station where trust in your neighbor was as important as air for breathing. Although that had left his life at VDNKh rather sterile, he was grateful for the protection it had afforded him for so long.

Aleks reached the top of the rubble pile first, and peered over the cracked edges of the slabs. Below was a wide paved clearing in front of another Metro entrance which was situated at the base of a mostly untouched and ornate brick building.

"Okay, it looks clear - but let's wait a minute and see."

It appeared to Artyom that the Reds had purposefully piled up the debris in the area on both sides of the street below them, making somewhat of a canyon. Revolution Square was one of the most iconic stations of the Red Line and in general was expected to be rather grand, but Artyom also knew that the purpose was more sinister – it left room for the movement of a large number of soldiers.

Short gusts of wind pressed on them, making a faint whoosh as it passed through the empty window frames of the buildings around them. Otherwise, there were no other sounds. Aleks motioned for Artyom to slowly follow her down the other side of the pile, somewhat sliding along the slanted blocks and slabs, it was much more steep on this side.

Reaching street level with a thud, Artyom was immediately tackled by Aleks as she pushed him down behind an overturned car. Lying on her stomach facing him, it looked as if she were trying to press her body into the ground behind a low metal fence. Artyom followed suit and stayed low. His heart pounded excitedly when he heard the echoing voices of several people a short distance away.

Aleks shook her head briskly at him, as if shivering, her eyes wide with fear; the sound of human chatter was usually comforting but was not always a welcome occurrence. She pressed the side of her head to the pavement and listened. Artyom carefully straightened out his legs behind him so that he lay completely flat. Through the gap beneath the car he could see several pairs of boots marching down the street. The formation wasn't very organized and they could both hear rather informal conversation going on between the men walking past.

"Why do we have to go the long way, Comrade Major?" A young soldier whined timidly.

"Blyad Igorek, I've told you before - when we are out on patrol, you address me only as Comrade." spoke a second man in a playful tone. "Anyway, we have to go around because of the mess in Venice."

"What happened?" A third man asked in a very deep and serious voice.

"Eh, some bandit clan showed up and caused a big scene, there was some shooting and everybody ran. It's all locked down until they can clean it up." The second man - and apparent commander - answered.

Artyom was amazed that the news of their misfortune in Venice had travelled so quickly. Perhaps the Reds also had emplaced members in that station just as Roten Spaten had with Semyon, feeding information back to their commanders. He looked over at Aleks but she didn't move, still listening to the conversation between the soldiers.

"Have you started reading that book I leant you yet?" A fourth voice sounded, but it wasn't clear who he had questioned.

"Oy chuvak! It's freakin' addicting! Athos is definitely my favorite character, for sure. I just wish I had more time to read it." The commander replied exuberantly, but the voices were starting to dampen. "Their motto reminds me of our home on the Red Line. All for one, and one for all, eh priyatel?"

The echo of their laughter faded to silence with the next gust of wind. It was nearly dark now and Artyom was suddenly eager to get moving again. A chill in the air set his hair standing on end and the urge to reach their destination became paramount. Aleks quickly sprang to her feet, and a fleeting look between them confirmed to the other that they were ready to continue. Aleks led the way down the cleared street towards Kuznetsky Most.

The next segment of their trek was straightforward compared to the veritable labyrinth they navigated coming from the abandoned side of Kitai Gorod. Aleks hadn't reached for her map or compass since they had started moving again, was probably a good sign. Artyom kept very close behind her, his rifle now in his hands. The disappearance of the sun had put his instincts on high alert. Ulman's advice came back to him - _You can't predict mutants for long._ He worried about another ambush - after all, so many things had gone wrong since they had left Avtozavodskaya with a company of five. Then again, perhaps there was only a certain amount of bad luck one could encounter within the expanse of a day. It seemed to him that their hardship had ceased since coming to the surface, as their avoidance of being noticed by the Red patrol squad was actually extremely lucky.


	10. Kuznetsky Most

**Chapter Ten:**

The eerie chill of the night was tangible even through thick clothing and armor. Artyom had a strong sense that something was watching them as they swiftly made their way down a narrow footpath that wavered alongside the main road. The road itself was entirely occupied by abandoned vehicles. He allowed the view to fill as much space in his mind as possible, giving himself a break from the awareness of his paranoid suspicions. He wondered if he was better off just living with the creepy feeling, so that at least he would be ready if anything did show itself. Though his rifle was locked on safe, his finger remained tensed against the trigger.

Aleks looked over her shoulder at him periodically, perhaps feeling just as paranoid as he was. She tensed when a gust of wind knocked a gnarled tree branch free of some tangled wires. It was clear to him that although she had a keen survival sense in the Metro, she was not knowledgeable to the ambient sounds that echoed on the surface simultaneously. The wind blowing and moving things, animals and mutants scratching or howling in the distance, water running or dripping, creaking structures, and the ever-changing weather were all unfamiliar to her ears.

Artyom was quite proud that he could discern threatening sounds from the natural chorus. At the moment no danger had presented itself through noise, but rather it was the lack of noise that bothered him more. Even his own footsteps seemed muted to him and he took the next few very forcefully to be sure. It was as if his ears were blocked with cotton and thus everything around him was subdued.

Sensing the need to look up, he obeyed the feeling and was delighted to see Aleks pointing ahead to a large circular clearing in the middle of the road. To the left was the Metro entrance on the corner of several short interconnected buildings. A breath of relief escaped him, making a stream of white haze emerge from his respirator. The calm feeling her update gave him seemed to stick, and the focus switched from fearfully listening to his surroundings to only himself. He could fully hear his footsteps now, along with the ruffling of his rucksack and clothing as he trotted forward.

Aleks quickly cleared the perimeter with her flashlight and stepped inside the building, pointing her rifle down the deep pit of the escalators. Determining that the area was safe, she quickly removed one strap of her backpack, settled her rifle into a leather holster on her back, and replaced the strap again. She turned to face him, stopping him in his tracks.

"I'm following your lead now." She admitted with a serious expression. "If you want to put on your other vest, that might help."

Artyom began to remove his rucksack, not fully understanding what she was implying, but hoping she would continue explaining as he changed uniforms.

"Just tell them you were sent as a diplomat to the Baumanskaya Alliance and had to return on the surface due to Venice." She crossed her arms as she talked and he removed his Spartan armor from his pack. Obviously she had put a good amount of thought into the story they were going to tell to the guards inside. Artyom now wondered what Baumanskaya was like and if Aleks had ever been there.

"Anything else?" He asked tentatively, wondering what the rest of her plan was, or what type of other questions they may be asked inside.

"Just keep it simple." Aleks shrugged and then she began to reach in her pocket for something.

Artyom carefully replaced his borrowed armor with his black vest from D6, placing the former into his rucksack. It felt comforting to have something of his own on again, even if it didn't quite match with the rest of his outfit.

"What about you?" He made a vague gesture about her clothing and she gave a shrug. He wasn't sure if it was only because he had interjected, but she adjusted the long sides of her heavy brown cape over her shoulders so that her slim figure was easily observed.

"I suppose… nobody really sees me. I think it's because, in general, women aren't seen as a threat." She put a hand on one hip, waiting for him to finish.

"In general…" He echoed, repeating what she said rather than making an implication. He had seen firsthand how formidable she was in a variety of situations and knew her statement to be false. Taking his passport from his back pocket, he descended the escalators carefully.

There was a sign at the bottom instructing them to knock in a certain way to let the inhabitants know that they were humans wishing to enter. Artyom did as the sign said and after a long pause a red flashing light came on, followed by the familiar sound of the motorized hermetic doors unsealing. He was glad to be going back underground, glad that their difficult day was almost at an end. It was time for some well-deserved rest and reflection. He certainly would have been lost after leaving Venice were it not for the knowledge that Roten Spaten had amassed on current traversable routes.

"Who goes there?" A man called to them when the door had slid back far enough to see out of.

"I'm a Ranger from the Spartan Order." Artyom untucked his dog tags from his shirt and brandished his passport. "Passing through to get back to Polis."

The guard took a few steps back, beckoning them inside so that the door could be closed again. Two other men flanked him at the back wall, one manning a large machine gun mounted on a metal stand and the other stood by a small table with a radio spitting out static. It seemed a little strange to Artyom that the machine gun hadn't been aimed towards to outer door, but into the main vestibule.

Removing the visor of his helmet, he took a breath of the cold air and looked back at Aleks to give her an appreciative smile. She removed her own gas mask, moved a few strands of her hair back into place, and smiled back at him more warmly than usual. It was perceptible to him that she felt the same way as he did.

"What brings you this way, Ranger?" The guard asked with a look of genuine interest. Artyom recognized that they must be members of the local militia, as they were wearing different uniforms than the regular Red Line soldiers and were much more pleasant too.

"I was sent as a diplomat to Baumanskaya." Artyom quickly glanced over at Aleks as if to confirm that he was saying the right thing, she nodded just once. "But Hanza is restricting travel due to the incident at Venice."

"What a right mess, there! Bandits and crime, sure, but there's hardly ever an open shooting going on in a residential station." The guard looked gravely over at the radio operator and then turned his attention towards Aleks and smiled widely. "So, who is your beautiful companion there?"

"She's… my… uh—" Artyom stammered, looking over at her for answers, but she only smiled sweetly back at him and remained quiet. He was irritated by her silence and confused, and it showed.

"Haha! It's alright; you don't have to say it. We get it." The man laughed, eliciting the other two guards into a chuckle.

Artyom was sure that his face had turned bright red once he understood their inference. She, however, remained complacent and in fact took a step closer so that she was able to take hold of his arm, somewhat leaning into him.

"So, m-may we pass?" Artyom asked awkwardly, trying halfway through the sentence to sound authoritative.

"You can go ahead into the station, but you won't be able to get through to the Red Line until tomorrow." The guard turned his head back to them and fell serious and straight. "It's already closed now, plus there's a cordon for outside visitors that restricts free transit. There's an area for travelers down the platform to the right before the market."

There was nothing to do but agree to the conditions and go inside the station. Artyom walked alongside Aleks, letting her guide him, as his mind was consumed by how irritated he was at that entire exchange. From the insinuations of the guards and no input from her to deter them, to having to wait overnight in order to keep travelling. He felt his head getting hot and removed his helmet entirely with a huff. Looking over at her confirmed that she was still smiling innocently and her arm was still wrapped around his.

"What was all that about?" He blurted angrily, his head still feeling warm and foggy with frustration.

"Hey, it worked didn't it?" Aleks distanced herself slightly, looking up at him with her brows furrowed. "Besides, you couldn't ask for a better girlfriend."

Artyom was stunned silent by her statement; his mind suddenly stopped its rant of grievances and switched to disbelief. He had totally forgotten that his companion was female, as up until now he had only seen her as a revolutionist soldier - and a force to be reckoned with at that. Nothing even remotely reaching a romantic point of view had crossed his mind about her, yet here she was, strolling alongside him with arms linked as if they were a couple walking out from their marriage vows – or so he'd heard about from others. He felt his face flush and took to looking straight ahead of them, walking more rigidly, his heartbeat now palpably throbbing in his chest.

"So we'll find ourselves a tent at the hotel and see about getting something to eat. I'm starved, aren't you? Those old IRP crackers can't feed you forever you know." Aleks snickered, referring to the field rations he had been snacking on as they headed out from Avtozavodskaya that morning.

"Sure, yeah." He managed to squeak out in reply, his head now a jumbled mess of hypothetical questions and doubtful answers.

He spent the next hour on autopilot, now actually thankful for the fact that she liked to lead him around when they walked. She had procured them some smoked sausage and a large portion of mushrooms, along with a few grams of tea. For two new magazines of rifle ammunition she traded two bars of soap that were surely the kind made at Avtozavodskaya. The merchant had looked skeptical of her but apparently recognized the value in the quality of the product. Besides their purchases at the market, they also stopped at a small bar near the hotel and ordered some porridge.

"I don't know about you, but I need a drink." Aleks said as she ordered a cup of the local brew for them both, taking a small sip and looking around the place with interest.

Artyom gulped the distilled liquid down almost instantly, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand before tucking in to his bowl of porridge. Aleks made a sound of amusement by his actions, but then sighed and leaned her head onto her arm propped up on the table.

"I'm not sure if the others will be able to find us now. They could be at Polis already and think we went ahead without them." Aleks poked at her food, stirring the thick slop a few times but not eating. "I really hope that Andrei—that Ivanovich, is okay. This… wasn't supposed to happen."

Either the comfort of the station had loosened her tongue or she had simply bottled up her worries for too long. Artyom wasn't sure that she was going to admit her failure at all, since she'd been so stoic during every stage of their rough journey.

"They don't even have business in Polis – they were only going there to protect me, like they always have… I suppose it doesn't matter anymore." Aleks gave up trying to talk to him and sat up straight, finishing the rest of her drink rather quickly.

"Of course it matters." Artyom placed his hand on her free one at the edge of the table, finally speaking up. Hearing her concerns, it was suddenly very important to him to reassure her that things would be okay, possibly due to his own concern about the rest of Roten Spaten since the Venice incident. "You will see them again, they will be there waiting for you."

Her hand was soft and warm, if a bit bony, and she relaxed at his touch. She concentrated her eyes on their hands and nodded her head slowly.

"Thank you Artyom. You've been a great companion, I'm glad I could trust you."

"We aren't there, yet." He gently reminded her, showing a hopeful and eager smile.

A moment of silence between them solidified the optimistic feeling that he had exuded and she seemed to receive. Showing a weak smile, she finally looked up at him. Tears had gathered in her eyes but didn't fall. Artyom understood the emotions caught in them; both the painful ones that had accumulated during their journey but also the hope for what the next day would bring. He started to wonder again exactly what her business at Polis was, but knew that this was not the proper time to ask.

"Well, we should get as much rest as we can tonight so we can be first in line at the checkpoint tomorrow." Aleks stood up abruptly, her hand slipping from beneath his, and went searching in her pocket, counting out appropriate amount of cartridges for their meal. Artyom had offered to pay earlier, but she had refused, so he insisted instead on paying for the hotel instead - to which she agreed.

"Do you think we'll have any problems?" He asked as they left the table, but really he wanted to ask if they would have to pull the same charade that they had at the entrance to Kuznetsky Most.

"Passports speak for themselves. The communists don't care about your story, they just need the facts." She spoke flatly and more quietly so as not to be overheard.

Artyom glanced around and wondered if there were spies here like she had been telling him earlier about Nikolai and Dmitri. He tried to put it out of his head and speak cordially to the man running the little row of guest tents. Paying the reasonable fee for the night, they were directed to a sizeable tent along the back wall of the platform, under the last archway. It was a dark and quiet spot, Artyom lit the lantern hanging outside the tent before offering it to Aleks and lifting the flap for her.

Taking the lantern she crawled inside, hanging the light on a small hook on the back wall of the tent. Artyom crawled in and tied the flap closed; taking a seat on the left of the two cots he removed his rucksack and placed it between his feet. Aleks did the same, but also had to undo the straps of the holster around her shoulders that was carrying her rifle.

Artyom didn't even have the thought at the time about being let into the station with weapons, but he wasn't complaining. At least he could be calm now in knowing that his position as a Ranger afforded him some leeway with such customs and he wouldn't have to surrender his treasured weapons at the Red Line entrance. He didn't wish to part with his machine gun or Senya's pistol.

Aleks tucked her pack under the foot of her own cot and set about unlacing her boots. He watched silently for a moment, admiring how many layers she was actually wearing as she began to unlace her armored vest next. He had never seen her without it, and suddenly wondered exactly how many special details went into her outfit. She continued to strip until she was left wearing only a standard issue striped undershirt, her cargo pants, and a pair of thick black socks.

"Did you make that armor yourself?" He asked finally, after wondering about it since they'd met.

"Most of it." She laid her effects in a neat pile at the end of the cot and looked back at him. "I am lucky to know how to sew. My mother taught me what she knew when I was young. It was my duty for a long time growing up in Reich, I worked in the shop where we fixed uniforms and made new things like banners, curtains, and sacks for goods. But I didn't make this stuff until after I left Revolution Square."

"I worked at the tea factory back home at Exhibition, but that isn't really a useful skill like yours." Artyom admitted, giving a reminiscent sigh as he unlaced his own boots and set them aside.

"No, but it's good tea!" She laughed and then sat back, leaning over until she was lying on her side facing him.

"Yeah, I hated it though. It was boring work." He undid the straps to his Spartan vest and set it on top of his boots next to the cot, next removing the gray uniform jacket he had been given and setting that with it. "I used to sit there cutting mushrooms and be dreaming about what life was like in the next station over, and now it seems like I've been everywhere."

"It's a small little world we have." Aleks sighed, her eyes fixed in one place as if she were looking through him to the wall. "Yet each station is so different from the last."

Artyom mumbled an agreement and it set his mind on a visual journey of the places he'd visited in the Metro. His earlier epiphany about their underground world being divided up like separate countries came back to him. In the end, although there were different races of people, and different ideals and religious beliefs, he couldn't understand why people had to fight so violently against each other. To him it used to be simple but it didn't seem so black and white anymore.

Just Aleks for example was a whole new shade of gray. Ordinarily, anyone from Reich would be considered bad, but she had such distaste for her own origin that she obviously wasn't one of the Nazis. Even good people, like the Kshatriya of Polis, had to do bad things in order to protect themselves. They routinely defended their borders against the Red Line and the Nazis alike, but doing so still didn't make them bad by association. He wondered where the figurative line was drawn between good and evil.

He glanced over at Aleks. She seemed to be sleeping peacefully, although she hadn't moved from her previous position. He leaned over and gently slid the folded wool blanket from beneath her feet; placing it over her. She stirred, but didn't awaken. He lay back, dragging his tired feet up onto the cot. Still watching her, he stared at the string of her necklace and realized there was still a lot about her he didn't know, but wanted to. But as he said, they hadn't reached Polis yet, so there was still time for conversation on the next step of their journey.

Turning the damper of the lamp, the flame went from orange, to red, and then a flicker of dark blue before the tent was in darkness. He shook his own blanket free and pulled it up over himself. Feeling comfortable and safe, he drifted off to sleep.


	11. Truth

**Author's Note: **I made some minor changes to chapters 9 and 10, just simple grammar and flow, but nothing major. Please give me some feedback and as always: Thank you for reading! :D

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><p><strong>Chapter Eleven:<strong>

Ash and smoke obscured his vision; the heat from the smoldering ruins was intense even though the flames had died down. Bits of what looked like paper fell like snow in an orange light, still burning at the edges before dying out at his feet. The unyielding sense of doom weighed heavily on his body, making it hard to move. He could only crawl on hands and knees through the soot and soil as the building caved in around him.

Though the burning wreck suppressed him with the heat and fear of its power, it was the feeling in his chest that forced him to cry out. It was the feeling of knowing that all others around him were gone, and not just gone but dead. That somehow it was his fault because he was still alive and they had perished. It was as if each painful death was being imprinted on him, forcing him to feel as they did: suffocating for breath, flames licking their skin until it was blackened and blistered.

He screamed but no sound escaped him, he cried and nobody answered, only the crackling of the embers reached his ears in return. All he could do was look up; there was just a tiny opening in the storm that showed him the sky, gray and hostile though it was. He clung to this vision, trying to reach out to it, to crawl out from this dark and painful pit and reach salvation. There was something there, something towering over him, overlooking the wasteland from above. Was it, the gods, come to release him from his pain and grant him the same comfort in death as his comrades?

No. It was something else. It was him, it was Artyom! He saw himself from a great distance, feeling as though he was a lost soul looking back at his own body and feeling sick. How was such a thing possible? Was he looking through someone else's eyes? Who might be occupying his body, if not him?

His inquiry forced him back; he felt a great power drive through him as if he had just been punched in the stomach. He flew upwards, feeling the heat and pain fade away – but the sorrow remained. He was in his own body again, standing atop Ostankino Tower. He was looking down at the disintegrated hive of the Dark Ones. He felt their pain, the pain of one thousand deaths dragging his very soul from his heart and making him vomit. Sobbing, he fell to his knees, watching as the hive crumbled and smoked. All he could hear was a high-pitched scream calling his name.

"Artyom! Artyom!" The voice called to him, raspy and whispering forcefully.

He managed to get to his feet, just barely, and hobbled forward leaning against the rail of the catwalk. Stepping out onto the edge of the platform, his head was in a depressive haze. One more step, one more step and he would be free of this pain. He deserved it, he had killed them. One more step.

"Artyom!" The voice had changed, it was scared and soft. "Artyom, wake up!"

It was Aleks. Had she been calling to him this whole time? He bolted up and sat with his head in his hands, still gasping for air.

"Artyom, are you okay?" She sat on her knees on the floor between the two cots and took hold of his wrist gently, trying to coax him back to reality. At some point before releasing him from the prison of his own mind she had relit the lamp, and although glad for the light, the glow of it only reminded him of the smoldering fire from his dream.

"I-It's fine. It's… nothing. I-I didn't mean to wake you." He panted, sniffing back his tears, wondering how she could understand him at all. Although warm and comfortable when he had slipped into slumber, he was confronted by the most haunting of thoughts in his dreams.

"It was not nothing. Crying out in your sleep and gasping as if you cannot breathe is not nothing." Her initial comforting demeanor had faded quickly and her eyes now pierced at him suspiciously. He had alarmed her and she was now only seeking answers.

"The Dark Ones." Artyom choked on the words, not wanting to admit his actions, but he needed to say it out loud. Keeping the facts to himself did nothing more than invite more guilt to plague him. "I killed them… I killed all of them."

"Just what are you talking about?" Aleks' voice grew even more stern and she released her grip from him. She sat up straight and displayed a forceful look that demanded an immediate and precise response.

"It was myself, Melnik, Ulman… we set the missiles from D6 into the Botanical Gardens. That was the home of the Dark Ones, and I destroyed it." Artyom avoided her gaze with difficulty. The words lurched forward from his dry mouth with regret, spilling out of him and contaminating the space inside the tent with all their foul truth. Almost as soon as he had said them, he wished he hadn't. Explicit details of that mission were supposed to remain classified.

"So, it is you whom they call the Savior of the Metro." Aleks leaned back against the metal frame of her cot, fixing her eyes on the floor and cradling her knees to her chest. The expression on her face revealed both intrigue and horrified surprise.

"I didn't save anyone… the only reason they could even get into the Metro was because of me." Finally catching his breath, he turned to sit on the edge of the cot. He had her attention again now, and found he couldn't stop himself from continuing the wretched tale. It was too late to take it all back in now, whether it was against regulations or not, he felt the absolute necessity in regurgitating the details. "It was a mistake I made when I was much younger, an accident. I opened the door at Botanicheskiy Sad because I wanted to see the surface, that's how they were able to get in."

"I see." Aleks replied quietly.

Artyom paused, trying to judge the look on her face, trying to see if she had begun to spurn him for his stupid decisions and actions. He waited to see a trace of anger or disappointment but she showed only curiosity and concern, wanting him to continue talking. He knew exactly what he needed to tell her next and it wasn't going to be pleasant - but she had to know why the story was so important.

"Hunter came to Exhibition because of this threat. He was an old friend of my Uncle Sasha, but he came because of the Dark Ones. I didn't know him very well, but he came to me, like he knew what I had done. I told him what happened back then. He made me promise to go to Polis and deliver his message if he didn't make it back… and he didn't." Artyom stared at her, hoping she would finally say something; wondering if it was clear to her that he had also been somewhat close to Hunter, wondering if she would blame him for his disappearance and apparent death.

"I see." Aleks said again, sending a twinge of humiliation through Artyom's heart. "At least, in a way, Hunter was avenged… so I cannot be angry with you."

For a long time it was silent; Artyom was finally calm and Aleks had completely internalized her dialogue, taking her time absorbing this new history. Artyom waited, counting his heart beats with the seconds that passed, desperately hoping that she wasn't going to get up and leave and never speak to him again. He wouldn't blame her if she did, he felt absolutely despicable.

"If I could have another life and start all over again… do things differently—" He began to mutter.

"No. We have to live with the way things are. So, who knows what really happened to him. He's gone now." Aleks spoke quietly, not moving or even looking at him.

"I'm sorry." Artyom leaned over, wanting to take her hand as she had taken his, but didn't want to separate her from her memento. Saying those words suddenly lifted a very heavy weight from his chest. He took a deep breath, amazed at the new sensation of clarity.

Several minutes passed in silence before he noticed that she hadn't spoken a word in response to his apology, as he had been wrapped up in the pleasurable feeling that his honesty had uncovered. He watched her as she rolled the dulled brass cartridge between her fingers, tears falling silently down her pale pink cheeks. The sight of her inner turmoil bubbling over became too much to bear, nearly reversing the moment of relief he experienced a few seconds ago. He couldn't hold back his burning curiosity any longer, he had to ask, he had to know – conversational formalities be damned.

"Were you and Hunter… in love?" He asked timidly, knowing how invasive his question was.

Aleks looked over at him with pleading and sorrowful eyes, still holding her cartridge tight in one fist. The absolute melancholy she expressed jumped into him when their eyes met, as if there was a direct connection between them.

"I don't think he ever understood how I felt about him. Such things weren't of interest to him. I never really told him, so I don't think he knew. He saved me. He taught me how to survive in this world, how to think about it." She spoke slowly and quietly, her eyes still on the floor.

Artyom wasn't entirely surprised; he was somewhat relieved to hear her finally explain it. It revealed a lot about how she had acted and the things she had said when speaking about Hunter. Nearly everything she had done was in pursuit him, of finding out what had happened to him.

"I'm sorry." Artyom said again in a low tone; it didn't feel nearly as fulfilling as the first time he'd said it. He fully understood now just how much he had altered her life. "I wish—"

"Things happen for a reason." She interjected; her tone of voice remained serious. "Everything happens in succession. The two of us being here, now, and talking about this – it is fate. The universe has brought us together for a purpose."

"What purpose?" Artyom raised an eyebrow, watching her carefully as she moved back to sit on her cot.

"That remains to be seen." She adjusted herself to sit on the bed and pressed her hands together between her knees tensely. "I don't think our alliance will come to an end upon reaching Polis. In fact, I may be there for a while."

Artyom wasn't quite sure how to interpret that news. It's not as if he hoped she would disappear from his life once they had returned to Polis, but at the same time he couldn't imagine her leaving her position in charge of Avtozavodskaya. It would also be difficult to explain to her that he would have to continue on to D6 and it was unlikely that she would be allowed to accompany him there.

"How long? What for?" He blurted, silently kicking himself for being so nosy.

"I'm not sure for how long… I don't even know if they know anything about me, if he ever told them who I am. Hunter made me promise that if anything should happen to him that I should speak with the Colonel. He said he had something he was saving for me. I have no idea what, but whatever it is, it was important to him."

Artyom could only nod his head in response, tentatively lying down on his side. Aleks did the same, lying on her back with her hands behind her head, staring at the ceiling of the tent deep in thought.

"We will get there." He mumbled as he pulled the stiff wool blanket over himself. He hoped he would be able to sleep peacefully now that he had gotten that unbelievable weight to lift from his chest. Reaching up, he began to turn the light out. "Thank you, for listening. Goodnight."

"Sleep well, now, Artyom." She gave him a playful smile and then closed her eyes.

* * *

><p>The pair awoke to the deep metallic sound of a bell being rung several times throughout the station. Artyom figured it must be a bell to wake the workers for the day, or to signal the change of a shift. It could even be to announce the opening of the passage to Lubyanka and the Red Line, hopefully the line was short. Sitting up and stretching out her arms, Aleks gave a yawn.<p>

"Guten morgen." Aleks looked over at him with a hopeful smile.

"Good morning." He confirmed with half a smile, as he sat up and reached for his jacket. Nightmares hadn't plagued him again that night, on the contrary he thought he remembered dreaming something pleasant but couldn't remember what. "What's the plan?"

"You can put on one uniform or the other; I'm not sure how the Reds treat Rangers these days. In any case, put your weapons and everything you can into your bag, they will probably search us but at least we won't be suspicious carrying them in the open." She proceeded to get dressed in her own uniform, quickly donning her gray overshirt and adjusting the placement of her armored vest before lacing it up tightly.

Artyom opened the flap of his rucksack and reached for his blue Ranger uniform. He longed to put it on with his black vest and stroll proudly through the Red Line with his new identity, but took a long moment to weigh the possibility that they might restrict him from travel or worse. If he continued to wear the gray and green outfit that he had been given by Aleks then perhaps the Reds would just see them as simple travelers passing through and not read into their appearance. Then again, if they were to search his things and find his real uniform hidden away, what would they suspect about him then?

"I'm going to see if the checkpoint is open and get some fresh water, give you some time to get dressed." Aleks removed a slightly dented metal canteen from a pocket in the front of her rucksack and slipped her boots on without tying them. She left the tent and closed the flap behind her.

Artyom had ultimately decided to go along with the gray uniform, so it didn't take him long to get ready, but he took a while emptying out most of the contents of his rucksack to reorganize. He placed his Spartan uniform at the very bottom in case they checked bags at the customs table; hopefully they wouldn't look that deep. Next he placed inside his rifle and Senya's pistol in its holster, just now realizing that he would have to report the circumstances of the Ranger's death when he returned to D6.

Aleks and Valya had assured him twice that they had radioed to Polis that Artyom was at least alive and returning to them, but Artyom knew that Melnik would have a lot of questions for him. Ulman too, would certainly be curious as to what befell his partner in the days since he had been separated from the church. A twinge of fear pulsed through him at the memory of their exit battle, but somewhere deep inside he knew that Ulman was alive.

He placed in his helmet and extra filters, packing it all up nicely and strapping the bag closed. Adjusting the Velcro straps on his green body armor and straightening his collar, he was almost done tying his boots when Aleks returned.

"All clear, the line isn't long." She chirped, offering him some water from her canteen. He drank greedily, offering to refill it for her momentarily.

Aleks sat down and neatly tied her own boots and then buckled the straps of the leather spats she wore over them. Forgoing her hardened leather pauldrons and brown cape, she piled them into her bag. She double checked that her things were all accounted for, except for her canteen, and placed her weapons into the pack last.

"Are you ready to move out?" She asked, dragging her rucksack onto her shoulders.

Artyom nodded his head and they left the tent, heading down the platform towards the main hallway. The large station had been divided into different areas by manmade walls. The use of the tracks had only been preserved on one side, the other being completely walled off and out of sight. There weren't guards between the arches to the different sections, but there were several men in gray uniforms standing in each area with a watchful eye on every inhabitant.

Both of them watched in amazement the smiths already working diligently at heavy wooden tables that were caged off behind fencing or bars made of iron. Sparks of both orange and a bluish white attracted their eyes and a symphony of hand tools could be heard all around them. Artyom thought it a noble trade to understand enough about firearms to manufacture them so precisely. However, the thought about resources came back into his mind again; when Aleks had been speaking of her displeasure about how even the few thousand survivors left fought amongst each other in the Metro. But weapons were necessary for other useful things, like hunting, and defense against mutants for sure.

Artyom quickly tried to put it all out of his head and only focus on the task at hand. He didn't want to let his mind wander too much and be caught in a philosophical internal debate, he had to keep his wits about him as they traversed through communist territory. It was only a few steps away.


	12. Lubyanka

**Chapter Twelve**

The man sitting at the customs table wore a well kept tan uniform with a brimmed hat adorned with a red star. Another man stood beside him dressed in the gray fatigues that all Red Line infantry wore, giving away that he was a conscripted soldier and the other man an officer.

"What is the purpose of your visit?" The officer barked at them as they approached, his pen poised over some sort of log book.

"Transit. We are going to Polis." Aleks replied calmly but sternly, holding out her passport.

"Where are you coming from originally?" The officer looked up at Aleks with an eyebrow raised, holding up her passport to his eyes on a propped arm.

"I'm a fisherman's daughter, from Venice." She gave a coy smile, leaning one hand on the table and trying her best to look innocent.

"And, you?" The officer looked from Aleks to Artyom with suspicion and gestured for his papers.

"I'm a Polis Ranger." Artyom replied with as much grit as he could manage as he handed the man the document. He hoped again that the guards wouldn't bother him about his uniform or the weapons in his rucksack.

"So I see." The officer handed Artyom his passport after barely scanning over it but then pored over Aleks' papers, making a remark in his logbook.

Aleks stood up straight again, shifting her weight from one foot to the other uncomfortably. Artyom wasn't surprised that she had lied, telling the officer that she was a resident of Venice, but wondered what the necessity of it was.

"What is your business in Polis?" The officer looked over at the other soldier, and then stared back at Aleks with narrowed eyes full of distrust.

Artyom's heart began to race. What would she say? Would she spin some new tale, or speak candidly of her promise to Hunter? At least, he hoped, she wouldn't use him as a scapegoat as she had to gain them entry to Kuznetsky Most.

"I seek the aid of the Council. Venice wishes for military support to eradicate the bandits that plague our station." Aleks spoke fluidly, as if she had already planned out what to say if asked. Artyom thought it was brilliant, and it definitely fit in with the recent turmoil there, even if they had been the actual cause of it. His eyes widened in awe and he forced away an impressed smile so as not to make the soldiers skeptical of her explanation.

There was a long pause, during which the officer looked over at the other soldier and they seemed to converse with merely facial expressions, head nods, and no words.

"Vladimir will search you, then you may go." The officer gestured behind him to a doorway that led into a small room. The soldier showed an unsettling half-smile and shuffled into the room without saying a single word.

Aleks was frozen in place for a moment and Artyom felt her apprehension. He felt safe knowing that the guards accepted his occupation and the fact that he was carrying weapons on him – but what would they think of the veritable arsenal that Aleks had brought with her? A fisherman's daughter wouldn't have need of a rifle, let alone the other clues she had that might give away that she was not what she claimed. How would she explain her maps, her armor, or the amount of cartridges she carried?

When she took her first few steps towards the room, he began to follow after her, but the officer stopped him from entering with a stern look.

"Not you. Just her." He said casually, holding up a hand until she had disappeared into the room.

Artyom was puzzled, but stood still, not wanting to outwardly question or provoke the soldiers in any way. The last thing he wanted was another situation like at Pushinskaya with Mikhail Porfirevich. His pulse was now audible to him and although the door wasn't closed, he was unable to see into the room to where the Red soldier had taken Aleks. Was he only going to search her bags?

"Turn around." He heard the voice of the other soldier faintly from inside the room.

Artyom clenched his fists, sensing that something wasn't right, but he had to hold his tongue. Aleks was not helpless; he had to trust that she was fine on her own and would emerge momentarily. Then they would be off to Lubyanka and the rest of the Red Line – just one more step accomplished, one more step closer to Polis. He strained to listen again, trying with difficulty to block out his own thoughts and the sound of blood in his ears. Strangely, he didn't hear any noise of protest or anguish from Aleks, and that helped him to relax some.

She appeared in the doorway a minute later, looking slightly disheveled and solemn, not making eye contact. After adjusting her rucksack squarely onto her back, she put one hand on Artyom's shoulder and pushed him gently aside. Taking her passport from the table, she turned quickly away from them and started off down the passage.

Artyom looked over at the officer as if to confirm that it was okay to go ahead before following after Aleks. The officer gave a similarly unsettling smile to the one the soldier had displayed, and Artyom immediately took that as his permission to leave. Hastily catching up to his companion, he was trying to figure out how best to ask her about what had gone on in that room.

Aleks fidgeted with her clothing as they walked down the narrow corridor that led from Kuznetsky Most to the Red Line.

"Иди к черту, сука!" She huffed under her breath, shaking her shoulders in disgust.

Artyom held his tongue, his confused and concerned expression was enough to keep her talking, so the least he could do was listen.

"He was searching me like that to get a good feel. Asshole!" She snorted. "I should have just told them I was one of the Revolutionists, and then maybe they wouldn't have minded. He didn't even look in my bag!"

Finally understanding precisely what she was upset about made him feel even more uncomfortable than he had been standing outside the door waiting for her. The thought of that grungy communist running his hands over her made his skin crawl. Desperately, he tried to put the image out of his mind and change the subject for their mutual benefit.

"At least we got through. Everything else should be easy, now. Right?" Artyom asked with a hopeful smile, trying to lighten the mood.

"I hope so, yes, but I am not sure exactly which entrance to Polis will be open for us. We may have to go all the way down to Borovitskaya before we can get in." Aleks shrugged, looking back at him for a clearer answer. But Artyom had never been at the heart of the Red Line before, and wasn't sure where the proper entrance was either.

"When I last came through here, there was a different tunnel that we took to Pushinskaya, and from there we were supposed to continue on directly to Borovitskaya." Artyom glanced around the passageway, wondering exactly where that other tunnel was.

"Supposed to?" Aleks had caught on to the one part of his story that he was hoping she wouldn't ask about.

Artyom looked away with an ashamed shade of red filling his cheeks. There was no way he wanted to tell her about his botched entry into Reich territory with Mikhail Porfirevich. He certainly didn't want to recount the misfortune of his first human kill and the time he spent in the Nazi prisons awaiting his death. Although that did also conjure more pleasant memories of the very same Revolutionists that Aleks had mentioned a moment ago.

"Well we definitely aren't going to Pushinskaya." Aleks said in a disdainful voice.

"We will find the way." Artyom said flatly, looking straight ahead so that there was no chance she could see the trace of doubtful fear in his eyes.

Thankfully, she didn't press either of the awkward subjects and they continued walking in silence.

Artyom had heard many rumors about Lubyanka station being used as a modern Communist prison where the despicable Reds kept not only their most reviled adversaries, but also familial enemies of their agenda and other ex-residents who did not follow their rules. He wondered what they might see there, or if they would be privy to seeing anything of interest regarding such gossip. Perhaps it was all just a great ruse; propaganda to frighten both enemies and inhabitants alike.

Finally reaching the end of the extensive corridor, they came to a twin set of escalators leading upwards and followed them. Artyom's immediate impression of the main vestibule was dim and ominous. Normally, many stations had beautiful center platforms with curved ceilings, arched pylons, and ornate carvings or statues. But this station had very straight tiled walls set at an unsettling angle that seemed to loom over them. The glow of several lanterns did nothing but intensify the eerie reflections and shadows that danced on the polished marble. It was impressive, but in all the wrong ways that made his stomach turn and the hair on the back of his neck stand on end.

The arches were completely walled in, and Artyom thought he could hear people speaking behind them but couldn't make out any particular words. There was in fact not a single opening through which one could get to the side platforms or tracks, and so he turned his head around curiously. Behind the escalators they had come up from were stationed two pairs of guards on each side that he hadn't noticed on their way up. They blocked the way into the other half of the station, where assumedly one could access the flanking train platforms. Were the stories true, then? And these were not mere soldiers but prison guards? He couldn't help but wonder if the conditions in the Nazi prisons were at all similar to what the Communists had. Artyom shuddered at the memory of his incarceration and turned his head back in the direction they were walking, trying to put all thoughts of imprisonment out of his mind.

"Is Colonel Melnik usually somewhere in Polis, or does he go on stalking missions?" Aleks asked suddenly.

"Uh, well, he does go on missions, yes." Artyom stumbled over the words, trying to figure out just how much she wanted to know and why.

"Is he based mainly in D6, then?" She revealed with the hint of a smile.

Artyom was stunned into an uncomfortable silence. Although he probably should have expected her to have some kind of clue about it, her words halted him. If nothing else, she and her clan had proved on many occasions that they were very good at gathering intelligence. Still, he was not about to divulge Melnik's movements or schedule to her.

"It isn't really very secret anymore, Artyom. Everyone knows of what your Order has found there." She crossed her arms in front of her and sighed. "I just want to have an idea of how long I might be waiting for him."

"He is usually only in Polis for council meetings." He reported flatly.

"Oh… I guess it could be a while then. You don't think they'll let me go to D6 do you?" She glanced over at him, but he avoided her gaze and her question.

Artyom wasn't at all sure what to tell her, he didn't want to make any promises he wasn't authorized to make and end up disappointing her. Soon, his thoughts had wandered from their conversation to the people waiting for him. He began to formulate what he would say in his report about the whole situation when he returned to D6. What might Melnik ask him about Aleks or Roten Spaten, and how would he describe them?

Melnik would specifically want to know their numbers, their locations, special equipment, and anything he didn't already know about their alliances and opposition. Unless they were a direct threat or allied with one of the Spartan's many enemies, Artyom didn't think Melnik would ultimately care who they were or what they were up to.

The clan was certainly an intelligent and active bunch, but they didn't seem to be interested in making a play on the world stage. Although they gathered as much information on the current events of the factions and kept in close contact with the Revolutionists, they never seemed to physically interfere with or engage any of them openly. The most obvious threat to them, or at least to Aleks, was the Nazis; specifically a Nazi spy named 'Sturmann' who hunted refugees of the Reich territory. Other than that, he couldn't say for sure what the motivations of Roten Spaten were other than their basic survival and the protection of the people at their hidden station.

Ulman would definitely want to know the few specific details about what happened right after they were separated at the church, but then would probably get bored and want a shorter version of what followed. Artyom was sure that he would find Aleksandrya quite an interesting character, as she had her own special brand of witty humor that would fit perfectly with his.

Suddenly he found himself wondering what the Order might already know about her. As she had said earlier, neither of them knew what Hunter may have told others about his relationships and connections. Now, he was almost expecting Melnik to know exactly who she was and what she was wanted. It drove him forward a little bit faster, if only to be present during their first meeting to see what interesting dialogue came from it. A sideways glance at her confirmed that she was also adrift in her own thoughts, likely the very same topic.

"Aleks!" A familiar voice called from down the tunnel.

There was a pause, as both Artyom and Aleks were shaken back into reality to process the outcry. Artyom strained his eyes in the dim tunnel to look ahead to the source of the sound.

"Kolen'ka!" Aleks called back suddenly, and Artyom couldn't immediately place the diminutive she used to whom it actually belonged.

"What have I told you about calling me that?" Nikolai spoke with annoyance as he and Dmitri approached them closer. "Are you wanting me to start calling you Sasha again?"

He had barely finished his hushed sentence before breaking out a wide grin as Aleks nearly tackled him with a hug, wrapping her arms completely around him and then inviting Dmitri to join them. He obliged begrudgingly and put one arm around them both, trying to hide a smile. Artyom's own face lit up as he witnessed their joyous reunion, letting out a long breath and reveling in the feeling of another weight of worry being lifted from his shoulders. He felt reassured now, as if everything was falling back into place and they could continue on without any further trials.


	13. Succession

**Chapter Thirteen**

"I can't believe this! How did you find us?" Aleks asked excitedly, her eyes afire with delighted surprise. She still held on to one forearm of each brother, as if they weren't really there and would vanish into the dark of the tunnels if she were to let go for even a moment.

"Well, we know you said to meet at Polis but then we thought you might have gotten held up at Revolution Square, or worse." Nikolai answered as he looked from Aleks to Artyom with a bleak expression. Artyom could only think of the prisons and stifled a gag.

"If there was any trouble, we knew where they would send you." Dmitri added gloomily, making a slight gesture back towards Lubyanka station.

Artyom looked behind them to where he and Aleks had just come from, noticing that the few other people who they had passed by in the tunnel had disappeared beyond his sight. He hoped their visit to Lubyanka would only be temporary.

"How did you get through at Venice? Did you see Andrei? What happened?!" Aleks demanded, short of breath and tugging at Nikolai's sleeve.

"Ivanovich, yes, he's okay. We saw him once we got to Venice, everything was kind of deserted then, and he was talking with Semyon when we got there." Nikolai confirmed calmly.

"Was he hurt?" Aleks' eyes pleaded.

"Yeah he took quite a beating from some of those thugs after he shot one of them in the foot." Nikolai's expression softened and then he laughed.

Artyom was relieved to hear the story, it clarified the memories he had about the incident and put his mind at ease about it once and for all. It seemed Aleks was glad to hear it too, as her voice lowered and she had stopped bouncing on her feet.

"So he's okay, then where is he?" Aleks finally released her grip on the brothers and crossed her arms indignantly.

"After we caught up with him, he told us he'd be better off going back to protect the base. We told him we were still going ahead to find you and we left it at that." Nikolai finished the tale with a nonchalant shrug.

"Then how did you get here? And such a risk to go along the Red Line, through your old station, even!" It seemed there was no end to Aleks' questions – she had to know every detail. Artyom smiled to himself, amused, but also pleased that she was asking because it soothed his own curiosity about the past two days' events.

"We just waited for some of the boats to come back and asked a guy to take us to Revolution Square. Paid him pretty good, too. So, exactly where have you two been?" Nikolai crossed his arms in the same fashion as his boss, giving her a stern almost fatherly look. He applied the same look to Artyom before Aleks began her account and his attention turned back to her.

"I stepped back to let Andrei handle those scum, then Artyom and I heard the gunshots. We ran over but everyone was in a panic. Semyon insisted we take a boat out, only they wouldn't go to the Red Line, so we got dropped behind Kitai Gorod. Then we got attacked by some tunnel trash and had to make our way over the surface to Kuznetsky Most."

Artyom noted her use of the slang term that Hunter had bestowed on the mutants of the underground.

"The surface?!" Nikolai's eyes went wide with surprise and worry.

"Yeah, we nearly got caught by a squad of Red soldiers coming out of Revolution Square." Aleks said with a playful smile.

"We're all here now, anyway." Dmitri said to dispel the tension.

Artyom nodded silently. Nikolai shot him an angry look; as if it were Artyom's fault that they had to traverse the surface and that he had put Aleks in danger intentionally. Not knowing how to react, he quickly turned his gaze to the crossties.

"We need to get to Polis as soon as we can. I don't like having to be here any longer than we have to. Stay more than a day and they'll try to conscript you." Aleks spoke with sarcastic contempt.

"Well good news then - your intel from Valya came through. Semyon radioed him while we were there; perfect timing as always." Nikolai brandished a worn scrap of newspaper.

"This says there's a transfer tunnel between here and Aleksandrovsky Sad." Aleks scrutinized the paper carefully; it looked to be another crudely drawn map. "Can we get into that station, Artyom?"

"I've never been through that way, but it should be possible." Artyom stammered, searching his mind for any memory of such a passage but finding nothing. He still longed to put on his Spartan uniform but knew that the stop would only hinder their journey further and his desire to get back to D6 was stronger than that of his appearance.

"And, will they let all of us in?" Nikolai interjected.

"I-I don't know." Artyom stared intently at the ground, hoping that suddenly it would cave in from underneath and swallow him up.

"Nikolai, he isn't a border guard. He's a Stalker." Aleks scolded.

"We already talked about this." Dmitri spoke in a harsh tone, but Artyom didn't immediately recognize that he had spoken to his brother.

"Yes, we did, but it seems that our boss isn't willing to admit that things have come to that." Nikolai leaned backwards to speak more closely to Dmitri, gesturing towards Aleks, whose expression showed concern.

"Nikolai you can't—"Aleks began, taking a step towards him, reaching out as if to comfort him somehow.

"Aleks. It's time. You must." Nikolai held up a hand to silence her.

Aleks took in a few short breaths and sighed, was she trying to hold back tears? Artyom couldn't see from this angle, he was standing somewhere between trying to stay in the conversation and trying not to be noticed.

"It's okay Aleks." Dmitri stepped forward and put a hand on her shoulder.

"We will do whatever you ask of us." Nikolai straightened up, holding his head high, and waited for her command.

Aleks bit her lip, kicked the toe of her boot into the side of the crosstie she was standing on, and then stood still. Artyom was still trying to make sense of what was happening. The energy in the tunnel around them was electric, he could tell that something was about to change, but he hadn't been privy to whatever prior conversation the other three had apparently had about this moment. Here they had just reunited with the notorious twins of Roten Spaten and yet Nikolai was speaking as if he was leaving them again.

"I just had to catch up to you from Venice and make sure you were alright." Nikolai's voice dropped to a soothing baritone and he lifted Aleks' head with two fingers under her chin. "You know what you have to do."

Artyom's heart thudded in his chest as the energy around them intensified, it was about to happen. He strained his ears to listen, unknowingly leaning forward.

"Nikolai, you are in command now." Aleks steeled herself, standing as straight as a wooden beam, hands flat at her sides. "I will be in contact via radio as soon as I know when I will return. If there is an emergency, you will contact Polis and ask for Artyom, telling them you are from Exhibition."

Artyom was breathless, his eyes wide, was this what they had discussed after he had left the room that first night back at Avtozavodskaya? It must have been, because Aleks seemed to have a plan and a backup plan for everything, it wasn't possible that she had overlooked this kind of situation or decided about it at the last moment. He hung a hand over the back of his neck, twisting his body to the side awkwardly, and tried not to be noticed again.

"Understood." Nikolai gave a quick and precise nod of his head.

Dmitri smiled and patted Aleks' shoulder but said nothing, as was his usual fashion, and then turned to walk away in the direction he'd come from.

"Promise me you won't abandon the true mission. Don't let them stop you here and force you to work for them again, you get back as soon as you can and tell Ivanovich where I am." Aleks couldn't finish her sentence without embracing Nikolai again.

"Hey we left the Red Line for a reason! It's way more fun working for you, anyway." Nikolai teased, letting her hold on to him and also giving her a hug in return. "We'll walk with you to the transfer passage and then be off."

Aleks nodded her head in response, releasing her grip on him and following him closely as he turned to follow after Dmitri. She pulled out the small scrap of paper from her pocket and reread the inscription as they walked.

"There's a door just on the other side of Okhotny Ryad marked Л42." She reported, looking up to see how far they were from the station proper.

Artyom ambled along behind them, silently trying to work through in his head what had just occurred. Now at least he wouldn't have to worry about trying to explain to the kshatriya why he had three militant companions, yet he also understood that Nikolai would undoubtedly hold Artyom responsible for Aleks' safety until she returned to Avtozavodskaya – and still nobody knew how long that would be. He weighed the possibility of having to beg Melnik for clearance so she could accompany him to D6, if only so he could personally keep an eye on her for that purpose. It wasn't a likely option.

Next he tried to imagine how often he would need to go back and forth to Polis to check on her, would he even be allowed to? What if he were sent on another surface mission? It was expected now that he had several shifts at the church outpost to make up for after losing contact on patrol. Would he have any time to visit her at all? Hopefully Melnik would understand about their mutual bond with Hunter and allow Artyom to bring to her whatever things it was he had left for her. Then, with all those supposed things, Melnik would have to allow him to escort her home, after she had escorted him – although he didn't really need her to. All the endless possibilities seemed so distant; there was no way to predict what Melnik might think, or when any of these individual things might occur. All Artyom could do was continue to come up with random scenarios, and he kept his eyes on her closely, so as not to lose her image in his mind.

Upon entering Okhotny Ryad, they stepped up onto the platform and crossed into the main vestibule. It was beautifully decorated; although Artyom assumed that most of the original details had been replaced by the Reds as there were a lot of symbols and crimson banners hanging around the hallways. The high curved ceiling caught the dim light of the lamps well enough that this station didn't feel spooky like Lubyanka did. This was obviously a much bigger and more public station and thus they couldn't afford to let their image falter. The traditional marching anthem of the Red Line was heard distantly.

Aleks and Nikolai had nearly caught up to where Dmitri was still plowing ahead, and Artyom jogged a few steps so as not to lose them in the growing crowd. There were a few shops set up against the walls between the arches, most made of a few crates with someone sitting beside them, the different offerings laid out proudly. A decent amount of chatter ensued, although it didn't seem that there was much actual trading going on, more so it was the merchants making their pitch to lure a passerby into a haggle. Was this the sort of life that Nikolai and Dmitri had led on this line when they called it home? If so, it explained a lot about both of their demeanors.

There wasn't any time to stop and look, and although curious, Artyom's feet never ceased to lead him onwards. The long journey home was nearly at an end and soon they would be separated from the noise of this place and from the company of the brothers, one now named the leader of Roten Spaten. Then he and Aleks would be alone again and perhaps then some of his questions about what came after that would be answered. His heart nearly skipped a beat when he began thinking again about what Melnik would first say upon meeting her.

"Here it is." Nikolai stopped just off the platform on the opposite side of the station.

Aleks didn't speak as she stepped up next to Nikolai and looked at the marking on the door to confirm his finding. Dmitri stayed back, almost in the shadows, watching both sides of the tunnel for pedestrians who might find their entry to the passage suspicious.

"I know you don't want to say goodbye, so instead I will say: we will speak again soon." Nikolai gave a warm smile and took her hand in his, giving it a kiss before taking a step to the side. "Artyom, you take good care of her, don't let her out of your sight."

Artyom simply nodded his head, not wanting to admit that he may not be able to do what Nikolai asked of him. He was still a Ranger, after all. It wasn't entirely up to him what duties he would fulfill.

"We will speak again soon." Aleks finally mimicked weakly, trying not to look directly at Nikolai or Dmitri. She tried the handle of the door, and it opened without a struggle. With not another word or gesture, she stepped inside.

"We're counting on you Artyom." Nikolai said in a low voice as Artyom passed into the doorway after her.

"I won't let you down." He turned and replied quietly as Nikolai closed the door behind them.

Letting the noise be a place marker in his mind, he looked forward now along the short hallway to where Aleks was walking slowly forward. For a moment he wondered if she and Nikolai were more than just comrades, based on their interactions in the last half hour. The thought unsettled him, as it seemed that the idea of it threw their whole command system out of balance. She had been genuinely upset to learn of Hunter's disappearance, and was rather candid with him the previous evening when they talked more on the subject. So then, it was unlikely that she would allow such advances from anyone so soon after the loss of her primary interest. Suddenly he found himself wondering why he was curious about that sort of thing at all, and assured himself that if Aleks were a man, it would never have crossed his mind.

He caught up quickly, now walking beside her and tried to put all that nonsense out of his head. It was just the two of them again now, and his thoughts quickly returned to his duty to protect her. They were almost to Polis, and he had to make sure at the very least that she spoke to Melnik in person before he left her side.


	14. Trust

**Chapter Fourteen**

Artyom walked quickly beside Aleks, trying to keep pace. It was as if she were deliberately trying to keep her distance from him as every time he thought he had finally caught up to her speed, she slipped ahead again.

"What is the 'true mission' you mentioned to Nikolai?" Artyom dared, if only to slow her down a little with conversation, though he was genuinely curious.

"I really don't want to talk about it." She said after a sigh.

"Is it just about protecting your station? Or something else?" Artyom was nearly at a jog as she began to ascend the winding concrete stairwell. It was littered with random debris and the emergency lamps flickered.

"Don't you know how it is in the Metro by now? You can't trust anyone." Her tone of voice was unusually hushed.

"But you trusted me before. At Venice, and on the surface, and at Kuznetsky Most…" he waited a moment, but received no reply, so he decided to be more direct. "Do you not trust me now?"

"I don't think now is a good time, Artyom." She said hurriedly, slowing her steps at last as they reached the top of the stairs.

"But—" Artyom began with an annoyed look but was halted by a firm hand against his chest. Did she just hold him back with her own strength? Or was it just that he hadn't been expecting the sudden obstacle? He looked at her indignantly, but she didn't look back at him. "What?"

"Shh!" Aleks hissed, drawing her silenced pistol from the holster at her hip and dropping to a crouch.

Artyom only then sensed what she had been trying to warn him of. Just outside of the stairwell exit was a veritable battlefield, or rather, the graveyard of one. The air was dank and heavy with the scent of blood and rotting flesh, it was nauseating to say the least. Aleks covered her nose and mouth with her sleeve, slowly edging forward to look more closely at one of the decaying corpses.

Quickly reaching for his flashlight, he illuminated the ground just in front of her. With only a small degree of delay, he followed her hand with the beam as she reached reluctantly to overturn the carcass of an unknown being. It looked to him upon first glance to be a different mutation of the generic tunnel lurkers, only with reddened skin and patches of course black hair. Dropping the body, she dared to investigate the pool of blood beside it. Dipping in a finger, she withdrew quickly and held it up for Artyom to see.

"It's cold, but not dry." She said in as low a voice as she could without whispering. "It's been a few hours, maybe more."

"But what happened here? Who did this?" Artyom puzzled aloud. He looked behind them at the staircase and didn't notice any trace of blood or of any creatures living there. Where had they come from? They had gone so far down the passage that it wasn't possible that the Red Line had been involved. If the Reds had known about such a thing, wouldn't they have made sure that the door they had come through was sealed off?

"Did anyone at Polis ever mention anything?" She looked back at him, holding up a spent cartridge casing for him to see. It was clearly a battle against humans.

He shook his head solemnly. He had been occupied at D6 ever since its discovery and he hadn't heard any mention of an infested passage near here. After realizing he'd been quiet for a minute too long, he decided to aim the light as far down the corridor as he could. This wasn't a train tunnel, but he could see several offshoots and doors. Who knew how many endless connecting passages there were or where they led to. Either this was an area in the territory of the Reds and had nothing to do with Polis or maybe the Reds had entered this passage trying to reach Polis, just the same as them, and found these creatures living inside. But then that wouldn't explain why it seemed that the defenders had been standing at the other end of the hallway. Could another Ranger have come through here?

In any case it looked to be clear and quiet now, and they needed to keep going. Whoever had fought these strange creatures had definitely killed all of them, and had most likely retreated to wherever they'd come from or had gone on in whichever direction they were originally headed. He could only hope, as they decided to enter the hallway, that the defenders hadn't blocked the tunnel ahead. It wasn't going to be easy getting around to Polis any other way, so that left this rotten passage as their only road.

Aleks kept her pistol drawn, she'd turned on her own light and scanned along the left wall as they crept forward, pausing at each alcove and doorway to make sure it was clear or closed off. Each of them had to also be aware of their footing, as the blood was slippery and the corpses lay strewn at random every few feet.

"W-what is that? Do you hear that? It sounds like…" Aleks whispered, almost tripping over a mutant carcass and quickly trying to correct herself. Her sudden change in behavior was unusual, and that alone put Artyom on edge.

He held himself steady, straining his ears for whatever sound she mentioned, but he didn't hear anything. Turning his attention solely to her, he knew something was wrong; she was moving slower and slower, and it had suddenly started to feel cold.

"Artyom, I f-feel…" Her voice waned, and for a moment her lips kept moving as if she were still speaking, but no sound came out. She looked back at him with a blank expression, her head bobbing as she looked as if she had become dizzy, a thin stream of blood dripped from her nose.

He was barely swift enough to catch her before she buckled at the knees and fell sideways; he stuck his leg out to balance himself but then crumpled to the floor anyway. With her body now completely limp, it was a bit of a struggle to shift her into his arms and untangle his legs from underneath her – luckily he hadn't sat in any blood. He leaned his ear down to her mouth and listened for breath, he didn't want to think that some entity of this passage had entered her head… no, it couldn't be like what had happened to Bourbon. His heart raced, her breathing was so barely noticeable that he pressed two fingers to her neck in search of a pulse.

The soft thumping against his fingertips was a welcome relief. He took in a deep breath and sighed, clutching her a bit tighter. He still wasn't able to ascertain exactly what had happened, she mentioned hearing something, but all he could hear was the ambient air in the hallway and maybe the distant hum of the emergency lights in the stairwell behind them. He took up her flashlight from the floor next to them and used it to examine the immediate area. On the ceiling there was a patchy white fungus, but there weren't any wires, holes, or pipes that might explain the interference. If it was something like the broken pipe in the tunnel near Prospekt Mira, or the gasses at Polyanka, then wouldn't he too be affected somehow?

Something inside of him was telling him to go. Certainly Aleks wouldn't regain consciousness until he removed her from this place. Whatever was going on here was not able to sway him, and so he had to get moving while he still could. Shifting her around again, he had her nearly standing up and then carried her over both shoulders like a casualty of war. He reminded himself again that the mutants here had been shot, so it was an unrelated cause that had struck Aleks unconscious. Still, this tunnel felt unlucky.

With her weight balanced neatly on his shoulders, he scavenged her pistol from the floor and stuck it under his belt. Double checking that he had both flashlights, he quickly made his way down the corridor. The bodies of the red lurkers were more spaced out now, and he supposed that once they had been shot at, not as many of them dared to keep up their advance. Artyom took this as a positive sign and kept walking; he could just barely see a light glowing about twenty meters ahead.

At the end of the hallway it opened up into a sizeable room of concrete walls and steel beam supports in the center. This room was set up like an outpost, but it was completely deserted. An old radio spouted static and several lanterns were still burning. It struck Artyom as strange that the place had been abandoned, but there was a makeshift couch and he decided it would be okay to lay Aleks there while he secured the area.

The first thing he did was go to close the heavy metal door to the cursed passageway they had just come from, but he caught sight of something in the moment just before it was sealed and paused to observe it; a light silvery blue ball as bright as a full moon on the blackest night. It hovered and flickered like lightning, and he knew exactly what it was – an anomaly – the same as those that haunted some of the tunnels most gruesomely affected by death. Khan had explained all about them when they encountered one in the tunnel near Turgenevskaya. He made sure to shut the door quietly, so as not to attract the attention of the being. That must have been what Aleks had spoken of hearing before its energy overpowered her.

He could breathe a bit more easily now, after understanding what had happened to Aleks. Although the mystery of the battle against the mutants and of the reason this outpost was abandoned still lingered. As he crossed the room to check the other doors, Aleks began to stir. He quickly examined one exit and found that it only led to a small room with some kind of generators in it, and so he closed the door. Hoping that the last exit led onwards, he was relieved to find that it opened to another stairway.

"What… happened?" Aleks moaned, holding a hand to her head.

"There was an anomaly, but it's gone now." Artyom replied coldly, realizing he was still a little bitter about their discussion of trust just ten minutes ago.

"It sounded like… music." She winced as she sat upright. "Did you hear it?"

"No." He said flatly, not wanting to elaborate. Hearing music didn't exactly coincide with encountering an anomaly, and this caused him to rethink the entire corridor. Was it haunted?

"Strange." Aleks wiped the blood from her nose and propped both elbows on her knees, using the triangulation to support her head in both hands. She took several breaths and remained quiet.

Artyom still stood by the door leading to the stairs, suppressing the urge to go and assist her with her injuries. He was again consumed by her retraction of trust, as he thought they had been getting along well together up until they had run into Nikolai and Dmitri again – everything had felt awkwardly misaligned since then. Suddenly, she spoke, and it was as if she had been reading his mind as she began to clear the air on the very subject.

"Listen, it's not that I don't trust you. But then, I don't know very much about you. You don't know very much about me… and this true mission, it isn't defined yet." Artyom had already turned his head around curiously to look at her. Head still in her hands, she spoke softly, sincerely. "It's more like an idea, a hope. So, I can't go around telling everyone about it before I've figured out what to do."

Not knowing what to say, he could only prove he had heard the confession by going over and standing across from her. She seemed to understand that he was listening.

"Anyway, right now the priority is to deliver this capsule, and then I can worry about other things once I return to Avtozavodskaya."

"We're almost to Polis." He said softly, offering her his hand. She forced a smile through a somber expression and placed her hand in his, he helped her to her feet.

"You first this time."

Artyom did as requested and took the lead, although at a much slower pace than they had coming up from Okhotny Ryad. He took the steps partly sideways, holding out an arm in case she became dizzy again. She was rubbing at her ear with one hand, complaining that it was ringing.

This stairway was much shorter, only a few flights down led to another metal door that spat them out into a pitch black tunnel. He could only assume that it was the northern border of Aleksandrovsky Sad, but wasn't sure which way it was to the actual station. Switching on his flashlight, he scanned the ribs of the tunnel for markings or signs. Just ten meters down to their left was a barricade made of sandbags and metal barrels, on one of which was painted the letter symbol of Polis. It must have been an outer position in the tunnels that lead to the Reich territory in the other direction, and things with the Nazis had been calm lately, so they might not see a patrol of Kshatriya for another hundred meters or more depending on how far the station was from here.

"It's this way." Artyom made a motion with the flashlight, feeling suddenly very confident and comfortable in this tunnel. It was dry and warm and quiet here, with no trace of any of the horrors they had seen in the transfer passage.

Aleks didn't reply, but stayed very close to his side as he navigated around the barricade; he could barely feel the pressure of her hand on his shoulder, she was probably leaning on him for support. Remembering that he still had her pistol in his belt, he thought of turning to give it back to her, but then thought it might be better to wait until they reached the border checkpoint just in case they decided to search her. He couldn't believe that they were so close now. The journey he had been on since losing his way at the church outpost was almost as difficult as the first one he'd undertaken to reach Polis the first time he set out for it, although the companionship was infinitely more interesting and he hadn't been captured or thrown in jail at any point.

"Stop! Identify yourselves!" A young man's voice called out.

Both Artyom and Aleks halted in their tracks; Artyom raised his arms halfway into the air and only heard the rustle of clothing as Aleks must have done the same. He wondered if she had noticed the ten or so pairs of glowing green eyes watching them as they had approached. The clicking of machine gun bolts and safety switches echoed off the walls.

"I am a Spartan Ranger, and I'm escorting this woman to see Colonel Melnik." Artyom replied loudly and clearly.

"Proceed towards the light; we will check your documents." The voice replied and the impermeable darkness was split with a crack of warm light as a door was heard creaking open.

Artyom thought he must not have met any of these guards before, or else they might have recognized him and dispensed with the formalities. None the less, he obeyed the order and slowly walked forward to the one lamp burning in a room off to the side of the tracks. Here, a large man in dark green clothing sat behind a small table. He bore the two headed eagle tattoo of the Kshatriya of Polis, but Artyom didn't know him. Slowly reaching in his pocket for his passport, he slipped the man the document and then turned to Aleks for hers.

"Ah, Artyom! The Colonel told us to watch out for you. He was expecting you yesterday. Go on in to the station, someone will radio in for you." The guard gave a knowing smile, handed Artyom back his passport and waved them onwards without asking anything about Aleks.

Striding confidently, although inside disbelievingly, he led Aleks into the next hall which bypassed the hermetic lock at this station. Apparently they didn't open the big door unless there was a cart or caravan; it was probably more secure that way.

Although she shielded her face with one hand, Aleks didn't seem to be very bothered by the bright electric lamps at Aleksandrovsky Sad station as Artyom had been at his first arrival. Still, she looked at the whole vestibule with amazement in her eyes, and he knew that this was truly her first time entering the grand unified stations of Polis. At long last, he was home again.


	15. Contact

**Chapter Fifteen**

Aleksandrovsky Sad station was bustling, though there wasn't much noise; people talked and moved about in an orderly fashion, going about their business succinctly and efficiently. There wasn't a full open market at this station, as most of it had been converted into a makeshift barracks. The Brahmins now mainly kept to Borovitskaya and the Library station, whereas the Kshatriya ruled over Arbatskaya and now Aleksandrovsky Sad. Artyom had heard from another Spartan that all exits to the surface leading from here had been sealed off, but the informant seemed to have his doubts about the fact.

Looking around for a radio post, Artyom was somewhat discouraged by his lack of familiarity with this station. He absentmindedly offered Aleks an arm to lean on. He figured his best bet was to find the passage to Arbatskaya, where Melnik's old office was. With Aleks still compromised, he didn't want to alarm her by making her think he wasn't sure of himself. He did his best to keep a calm demeanor as she took hold of his arm; it amused him that finally he was leading her around a station and not the other way around. Slowly, he began to wind through the main vestibule, scrutinizing every signpost and banner for directions to Arbatskaya.

After finally finding the passage at the other end of the platform, Artyom could make his way to the office easily; it had been somewhat turned into an outpost, and was usually manned by one of their own men to maintain communications with D6.

Aleks was trying to hide the fact that she was still dizzy, and Artyom thought it would be best to leave her outside the door and let her rest while he made his call. She stumbled slightly as he helped her shift to the wooden bench, and she let her head fall back against the wall. Her eyes seemed like glass, and she mumbled a few words to him.

"Will you be alright for a few minutes here?" He asked worriedly.

"I'm not going anywhere." She said softly, attempting a laugh as she waved him away.

Promising to be brief, he left her side and went to knock on the frame of the office door.

"Artyom?" Spoke a familiar voice.

"Grigori?" Artyom replied disbelievingly as the young man lifted his head from a book.

"So, you've made it!" Grigori beamed, extending his arm to a chair adjacent to the desk he sat at that let Artyom know that he should sit in it. "Tell me where it is you've been!"

"I will, but first I need to contact Colonel Melnik. He was expecting me back yesterday and…" Artyom paused, turning his head back to the door and thinking of how best to explain Aleksandrya to his fellow Ranger. "I have someone with me that needs to speak with him in person."

"Someone…" Grigori echoed, raising an eyebrow and trying to follow Artyom's gaze out the door. "Not one of us?"

"No. She's from Avtozavodskaya." Artyom reported flatly.

"She?" Grigori's expression was of shock and intrigue.

"She was a friend of Hunter." Artyom knew that saying this would put any questions in the other man's mind aside, at least momentarily, and force him to make the call.

"I see, I see." Grigori said with a knowing nod.

The young Ranger slowly rose to his feet, having some kind of trouble, but it wasn't until he walked over to the radio box that Artyom noticed the splint on his leg. Grigori must have been injured during the fight at the church, and so they stuck him on duty here where he only had to sit and keep up communications. Artyom felt a twang of guilt, and began wondering who else may have been hurt. For a moment he believed that if he had been paying attention to the spotlight, the whole incident may never have happened at all – but then, he wouldn't have met the members of Roten Spaten.

"Igorevich here, I need to speak with Colonel Melnik." Grigori tapped his finger against the side of the box, waiting for a reply.

Artyom finally took a seat in the chair he'd been offered and let the straps of his rucksack fall from his shoulders. The items he had stowed to hide from the Reds hadn't seemed very heavy when they left Kuznetsky Most, but the added weight had taken its toll over the course of the harrowing day.

"The Colonel is just getting back from a mission; I'll have him call you when he's detoxed." The crackling voice sounded from the speaker.

Artyom couldn't help but feel annoyed, although he knew that Melnik was a busy man, and was used to him not being readily available. Still, after all he had gone through, and after being expected back the day prior, he thought for just a moment that he would be able to speak to him right then. Alas, it seemed they would have to wait half an hour at least; if the word detox was mentioned it meant that a Ranger was returning from the surface and needed to be cleansed – there was an airlock system at D6 that included pressurized chambers which nullified radiation and other pathogens.

"Sorry, Artyom." Grigori turned back to sit down. "How about some tea while we wait? It shouldn't be too long."

Artyom hadn't eaten a proper meal since dinner the previous night, and could never turn down a cup of tea. He nodded his head, reminding himself to bring one out to Aleks when it was brewed.

"So where have you been since Oktyabrskaya? Did Senya go with you?" Grigori sat on the edge of the desk as he prepared the kettle.

"He didn't make it." Artyom replied solemnly, thinking of the pistol he'd been given which was buried in his rucksack. "His gasmask was cracked, I didn't have a spare."

"Oh, I see." Grigori bowed his head. "So where did you go then?"

"Senya told me how to get to Novokuznetskaya. There I met a man with two friends who wanted my help getting through Hanza and past Paveletskaya. Turns out they were part of a clan, the leader of which was looking for Hunter." Artyom recounted the story in a monotone voice, trying to practice speaking it straightforwardly for when he would report it to Melnik.

"Your friend? The girl? The leader!" Grigori toppled question on question with increasingly raised eyebrows.

"Aleksandrya." Artyom paused, wondering if she was still alright sitting outside. He began to get up to go check on her.

"Well…?" Grigori pressed.

"Right, well, she had a message from him and she's taking it to Melnik."

"I see then, and do you think he'll come all the way from D6 to speak to her?" Grigori began to pour out three cups of the earthy brew, taking his time limping back behind the desk while it cooled.

"I don't know." Artyom shrugged, picked up one of the cups, and turned to head out the door.

"I guess we'll find out." Grigori said as he was exiting the room.

Artyom stepped out into the upper hall, looking to the bench where he had left Aleks, but she wasn't alone now.

"Hello Artyom. It has been quite some time, yes?" Khan's deep and calm voice reached his ears as Artyom stepped closer to the two. "Your friend here tells me that you met with an anomaly in a passage from the Red Line. It seems to have taken a liking to her."

Artyom remained silent, always preferring to listen rather than talk when Khan was in his presence. This man always seemed to know the story behind everything; he understood the ethereal goings-on of every tunnel and station in the Metro. There was always something to be learned from his words as he spoke cryptically and sparingly. Sitting down on the other side of Aleks, he gently put the mug in her hands. She moaned softly as the liquid passed her lips, thanking him for the serving.

"Why are you here?" Artyom blurted, and then scolded himself because the words came out rather harshly. Luckily Khan was not the type to take offense, and understood what he meant by the question.

"I felt a disturbance nearby, and now it seems I have my answer as to what it was. I will head there to investigate further but first I wanted to speak with you." Khan looked him dead in the eye and Artyom tried with difficulty to hold his gaze.

"But how did you know I would be here?" Artyom asked, knowing that whatever Khan's business was with him that it had to be serious. The mysterious traveler was always where he intended to be, and usually only appeared if something important was going on.

"I heard of what happened in Venice from a man passing through Oktyabrskaya. He said he was heading back home to Avtozavodskaya. I didn't know that there was anything there past Paveletskaya, so I went there with him to see for myself. Your name was mentioned by the locals." Kahn's voice waned.

Artyom still wasn't sure exactly how Khan knew where he would be, but the old man was never too specific. Right now he was more curious about what he wanted to speak to him about.

"Ivanovich." Aleks mumbled, taking another sip of tea and sitting up a bit. It seemed to be helping her recover. Artyom gathered from her interjection that the man Khan had mentioned meeting must have been Ivanovich making his way home from Venice after the fight.

"I've been hearing some rumors, Artyom. We assumed all too well that setting the missiles on the Botanical Gardens would solve our problems with the Dark Ones. Yet, it seems that people in the North still speak of psychological attacks, nightmares, suspicious deaths and disappearances." Khan had risen from the bench and began to pace back and forth as he explained the situation in a mournful tone.

Artyom's heart raced; it absolutely couldn't be possible for anything on the surface to have survived such a rain of hellfire. He suddenly gasped for a breath, having seen a flash of his fiery nightmare from the previous night. If what Khan was telling him was true – it might explain the horrible dreams and strange visions that had plagued him. Here he had thought that his guilt built upon the events of last month's mission at Ostankino Tower had been fueling his mind to torment him, but perhaps it was a surviving Dark One trying to contact him. What could they still want?

"This could be our only chance to find out for sure what is left." Khan's voice began to sound more excited than sad. "Do you understand?"

"I've been having… visions. Bad dreams. I dreamt that I was one of them, surrounded by fire…" Artyom said in a low voice, hoping that Aleks wasn't paying attention. She looked to be consumed with her tea.

"So these rumors must have merit. There must be a Dark One, maybe several, who survived. They are still trying to make contact with you – with us!" Khan's hands were on Artyom's shoulders, the strong energy in his eyes met Artyom's with force and he had to look away.

"I don't know if—" Artyom began, but was halted by Khan's sudden retreat as he began pacing again.

"I must go. I will search the ruins." Khan stooped to lift his rucksack which he'd placed on the floor beside the bench. "I will contact you as soon as I have found something."

"But—" Artyom started to follow after Khan as he headed quickly for the stairs. "I don't think—!"

"Take good care of your friend, there are not many like her in the world." Khan yelled over his shoulder as he disappeared into the crowded platform below.

Artyom still wanted to speak further with his mysterious acquaintance, but Khan's comment about Aleks forced him to turn around and go back to her. He wondered also if there was something he saw about her that he hadn't said. Exactly what did he mean when he was saying that the anomaly took a liking to her? It seemed to be quite the opposite to Artyom.

He climbed back up the steps, and taking a seat next to Aleks, he found that his mind was blank. There seemed to be just too many questions and possibilities to process and so his brain had just decided to shut it all off. It was somewhat welcome, but still the uneasiness of the conversation remained in the rest of his body.

Aleks had finished her tea and looked over at him. He continued to avoid her gaze, but managed to ask if she was feeling any better.

"Your friend told me that I am lucky to be alive. That he had never seen those things act in such a way. I almost wish I had seen what he described it to look like, but I only saw blackness." Aleks paused, resting her head on one arm propped up. "The music, it was an old song my father used to sing to me when I was young. A German lullaby."

Artyom said nothing, but nodded his head so she would know that he was listening. For a moment he felt jealousy, thinking of his own mother, or what little he could remember of her. Had she sung to him as well?

"Artyom." Grigori was standing at the door to the office. "The Colonel says you are to report to him immediately at D6, take the Metro-2, I have the map here."

"What about Aleks?" Artyom stood up abruptly and closed the distance between himself and Grigori quickly, in case the answer to his question might offend her.

"Her, too." Grigori began to hobble back to the desk for the map he mentioned.

"Both of us?" Artyom was suddenly fearful.

"Yes, I told him what you said, about her knowing Hunter and the message. He said it was a personal matter, and that you're to escort her. Take this, if you don't know the new entrance from here." Grigori passed him a small square of cardboard with instructions on how to get to the Metro-2 station.

All Artyom could do was stare blankly and gather his things, he hadn't even touched the tea he had been poured. He stuffed the cardboard in his vest and adjusted his bag on his back, taking a long and deep breath before leaving the room. Now he knew that her message couldn't just be about some personal effects that Hunter had left for her. There had to be something more.


	16. Escape Plan

**Author's Note: **My apologies for taking so long to update! I was very sick last week and then was working at a new job all this week and was super busy. As usual, I had a good three-fourths all nicely written and then just couldn't pull it together to make it complete (until now!). Also, I've been thinking a lot about the sequel to this story (that's right, a sequel!) even though we're only about halfway through this story now. I know, I know! It's a naughty writer thing to work ahead timeline-wise! But, it's something for you all to look forward to. I even designed some costumes for Aleks and what she would look like, if anyone is interested to see, please let me know and I'll find a way to show you! Did you know I plan on doing a cosplay of Aleks? Its kind of why I created the character!

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><p><strong>Chapter Sixteen<strong>

An unassuming door in a dark side-passage led to the corridor which spiraled deeper into the tunnels of the enigmatic Metro-2 line. Artyom and Aleks had needed to transfer to the Lenin Library station and exit into a service tunnel before finding the hidden room; it had all been written on the cardboard piece that Grigori Igorevich handed to Artyom. As instructed at the top of the list of directions, Artyom covered their tracks and made sure nobody had been following them.

"I never thought I would see any of this with my own eyes." Aleks breathed with admiration, shining her flashlight around the small station.

"Seems like you could have found it if you'd wanted to. You have people everywhere bringing in all kinds of information." Artyom mused, as if another entity was using his mouth to speak while his mind was preoccupied with questions; about Khan and the Dark Ones, about Melnik, and what Hunter had left for Aleks. The reality of these things was more tangible now than it ever had been, and scenarios began to play in his mind and he was immersed in them.

"Well, to be honest, I'm not that interested in the Metro itself… So what if there's a secret bunker with weapons and food - who cares? It's just another thing for everyone to fight over." Aleks exclaimed and flicked her hand as if brushing imaginary dust from in front of her.

"You're not wrong… but it is important." Artyom remained detached from the conversation, not focused enough to begin debating politics or economics with her.

There was silence for a time as Artyom looked for the switch box that controlled the lights. He wondered when the electric train would arrive. Although he'd ridden on it a few times before, he still wasn't sure if they were dispatched and summoned, or just continued to run automatically at scheduled intervals. Had the trains been running even before they had found D6? Going to each station diligently as it had since its creation, but there were no longer any people to utilize it. Artyom thought there was something else to compare that kind of situation to, but couldn't place what it was.

Finding no box, he figured that the station lights must be part of the switchboard in the control room. He could see the glow of the buttons in a glass booth across the platform, but there were thick spider webs strung up between the pylons and the walls. He groaned, loathing to have another obstacle, and began to take out his knife to cut through them.

"It doesn't matter how many resources anyone can find down here. It can't last forever." Aleks had crept up close behind him and startled him with her interjection. Apparently she wanted to continue the discussion.

Artyom said nothing, and went back to slicing at the strands which kept sticking to the blade of his knife and tangling around it.

"Here." Aleks pulled out a lighter from her pocket; she flicked the flint and an orange flame sprung to life. She touched it to the wispy white webs which dissipated into nothingness with a flash of fire and a hiss.

"We have to live somehow." Artyom's mind had finally caught up with itself, and he concluded that he would rather distract himself with conversation than be trapped in his own thoughts. He might not have much longer to spend talking with her and had to take advantage of the opportunities when she was loquacious. "What else are we supposed to do to survive?"

"Leave." Aleks said ominously, keeping her eyes focused on clearing the cobwebs.

Artyom looked back at her with brows knit in confusion; he attempted to laugh, because she had to be joking. Yet, her expression remained as stern and resolute as he'd seen on the first night that he met her.

"Y-you're serious?" He stuttered, putting a hand on her arm and forcing her to face him.

"I think it could be possible… There have to be places on this Earth that haven't been touched by radiation and fire." She kept her focus on the webs, but with an ear tuned for his reply.

"They've sent scouts before; trying to see what was beyond the edge of the city. Most of them never returned and the ones who did only reported the same destruction for miles and miles. It's further than anyone can go with only so many filters… not to mention all the creatures up there…" Artyom's voice waned as he internalized his monologue, trying to imagine what he might pack in his rucksack if his mission was to walk across the surface to another city. It was intangible to him how distant other places actually were, having never been outside Moscow even when he was a child.

"What if the ones who didn't return simply found something better?" Aleks said softly, stowing away her lighter as the last of the cobwebs were disintegrated.

"But then why wouldn't they come back for the rest of us?" Artyom could only imagine that they had been lost or killed somehow, what other reason could there be?

"Would you want the job of sorting everyone out?" Aleks tugged at the rusty door to the control room but it didn't budge.

"What do you mean, sorting?" Artyom cocked his head curiously.

"I imagine you'd only want to bring good people with you to a new city… So then how do you ensure that those such as the Nazis and Cannibals don't follow you?" Aleks held up a hand as if the solution was contained in it but the answer wasn't so simple.

"I hope you're wrong." Was his only reply; and he set about prying open the door to the switchboard. He couldn't imagine that other people had escaped the tunnels and gone on to live elsewhere without anyone hearing about it. Wouldn't someone who discovered such a paradise want to come back for his friends? His family?

"Do you really want to live here forever? In this wretched underground world that we never asked for and had no hand in creating? Won't you even try?" Her eyes expressed determination and also anger.

"I wouldn't even know where to go." Artyom strained the words as he finally lurched the door aside.

"Then we should start somewhere close, somewhere we know the location of precisely." Aleks stepped up into the door frame after Artyom had gone inside; it was if she intended to block his path until he agreed with her.

"You talk as if you've already chosen a place." Artyom said quietly as he examined the buttons and knobs on the panel in front of him, trying to make sense of the controls.

"Emerald City." Aleks leaned inside, waiting eagerly for his reply.

Artyom absorbed her statement for a moment, caught between wanting to know what her interest in the legendary station was and also trying to select the right button for the lights. After deciding on a large black switch he flipped it up and was happily surprised that he had chosen the right one. The white lights over the platform sparked to life and he grinned at Aleks. Noticing her pressing expression, he quickly caught himself up on the past few seconds of conversation.

"Why there?" He managed to ask after a few seconds of thought.

"If anyone would know about the probabilities of survival, or where to go, it would be the scientists who knew the world before it ended." Aleks dropped her eyes to the floor and Artyom knew she wasn't telling the whole truth.

"You're looking for someone there." He stated simply, and her positive answer was confirmed when her head shot up and she glared at him blankly.

"H-how did you…?" She squeaked.

"I am getting to know you after all." He smiled crookedly, putting a hand on the door frame as his way of asking her to move back so he could exit.

She didn't respond with any words, but tried to hide an impressed smile and stepped aside, letting Artyom lead the way back to the railing that would open to let them on to the train when it arrived. He thought he could hear the hum of the monorail in the distance, but it was impossible to tell because each station was sealed separately from the tunnels.

"Would it be too much for me to ask who it is?" Artyom asked after a few moments of her stunned silence. Her answer proved to him that he had earned the right to know.

"My father." Aleks gazed across the tracks to the far wall as she was assumedly conjuring memories of the man. "He was a chemist, or still is. I don't know exactly what he did, but he studied abroad in Germany. Then he became a professor at Moscow University and met my mother."

Her story actually answered more than one question for him. Now he knew why she had, at times, been partial to German sayings, and the foreign name of her clan.

"And you think he's still alive?" Artyom found himself also hoping that it could be true.

"Well, he was at work when… when it happened. It's possible that he survived and is still there now." Aleks shrugged and shook her head clear of her memories.

"And what brought this up just now?" Artyom leaned his head in her direction, hoping he wasn't asking too much.

"I didn't just hear music back in that hallway… I saw him. Like my memories were taken out of my head and played in front of me as if they were real again. Khan says the anomaly passed some kind of judgment over me." Aleks looked back at him for some kind of confirmation or opinion, but Artyom didn't know what any of it meant.

"So, how do you plan on—" Artyom began, but suddenly a whirring was heard and the hermetic lock over the tracks squeaked open.

A shiny silver train approached them and stopped squarely in front of the railing. An automated voice bade them to stand clear as the doors opened. Artyom caught sight of Aleks' excited smile before they boarded. He could only guess that she'd never been on a real running train before. The doors slid shut and the heavy partition in their path eased open, bearing them into a black tunnel softened only by the headlights which shone a meter in front of them.

Aleks clutched nervously against one of the front seats, though she looked through the forward windshield with astonishment. Artyom smiled to himself, amused by her enjoyment and remembering his own amazement when he had first stepped aboard. He hoped the feeling would last as long as possible for them both, because the atmosphere would most certainly change once they arrived at D6. There were many serious and sad things to speak about and Artyom attempted to clear his mind to make way for the right words.


	17. D6

**Chapter Seventeen**

"Is this what you thought it would be like?" Artyom asked of Aleks, watching her steel blue eyes as they followed the rails.

"What, the Metro-2?" Aleks replied, only glancing at him for a second, then was drawn back to the mesmerizing motion of the train as it devoured the tunnel ten meters at a time. "It wasn't such a fantasy in the first place. I'd heard the tales, of course. But who would believe such junk?"

"It was fun to believe in the legends as a child, to think there was another version of this Metro right next to ours, only much nicer… I guess I don't know what I expected it to be, but it was what we needed it to be when we found it." Artyom thought back to how he and some of the other Spartans had stumbled into the Metro-2 by accident after escaping from the cannibal cult at Park Pobedy. In reality it was no more special than the regular Metro, and Artyom supposed it was the rumors themselves that had made it extraordinary and gain a sort of life of its own.

"Well, we aren't children anymore." Aleks said gravely. "All of our parents' misfortune has become ours."

"Do you blame them for the way things are?" Artyom hoped that wasn't true. It was regrettable, of course, but there were far too many innocent survivors for anyone to try to lay blame on one another.

"No - just stating a fact. We've inherited this broken world. It is ours to do with as we please. There are survivors who try to keep things the way they were up there. Time keeping, work shifts, governments, religion, all of it. The way I see it, the way Hunter taught me to see it, is that the slate has been wiped clean. We can make this place whatever we want it to be." Her stare now seemed to go much further beyond the tracks in front of them.

Artyom was stilled by her words. Though before, at times, she had displayed resentment and abhorrence for the circumstances, hearing her talk about things now seemed so much more hopeful. He had never really considered that he or any single person in particular could have such control or impact over the Metro as a whole, but her and subsequently Hunter's point of view was enlightening. He had usually thought of Hunter to be hardened and sometimes even cynical towards the general state of things, but perhaps there was part of the Stalker's personality beneath that which Artyom had never known.

"How are you planning to get to Emerald City?" He asked, remembering his question from their conversation on the platform.

"I suppose I could ask Colonel Melnik for help, if he's interested to see what's there… if not, I'll figure out a plan once I return to Avtozavodskaya." Aleks shrugged casually, as if either option was fine with her.

"You would go alone?" Artyom asked, alarmed.

"If I have to." Aleks replied, blinking her eyes a few times as holding conversation was interfering with her view out of the windows.

"But you could be attacked, or lose your way on the surface, the Red Line ends there at Sportivnaya and the bridge collapsed when the rest of the city did…" Artyom's voice waned as he thought of the dangers between here and where the University was. "Listen, if you are really wanting to go that badly, I will talk to Colonel Melnik. I'm sure he's just as curious about the place as you are."

Aleks turned her head entirely this time, an eyebrow arched up hopefully. A smile betrayed her lips and she couldn't hide her gratitude from him.

"I don't want you to get hurt." The words tumbled out of his mouth, although he wasn't entirely sure why he said them once they had been voiced. Somewhere deep down, he knew he understood, but his mind wasn't fully connected to the part of his soul that had spoken up for him.

"Oh?" She stifled a laugh, still peering over at him with that same eyebrow raised.

Her intonation expected him to elaborate but Artyom had no further explanation. He felt his face flush and get hot, and turned his head to look out the windows on his side of the train. He awkwardly began counting the number of lamps as they passed at spaced intervals along the tunnels between stations, and let out a quiet sigh of relief once the train slowed at their destination.

He was happily surprised to see a familiar figure standing on the platform waiting for them – Ulman. Artyom had known all along in his heart that his partner had made it back alive, but he still enjoyed the relief that the solid proof gave him. The comical Ranger grinned from ear to ear as Artyom stepped off the train car.

"Well, well, well, look what the demons dragged in!" Ulman chuckled and clapped Artyom on the shoulder playfully. "We thought you'd been gobbled up by the watchmen for sure." It was understood from the tone that he didn't really believe that and was just teasing him.

Artyom returned the gesture, and a similar grin, but only mumbled some stupid response to the joke. He still wasn't sure if he'd be in any trouble for losing his way, even though it turned out to be somewhat lucrative for the Spartans in finding someone who was affiliated with Hunter. Either way, he wasn't about to go explaining himself just this moment.

"And would you look at this beautiful thing you've brought! You had better keep your eye on her." Ulman turned to Aleks whose cheeks flushed pale pink.

"This is Aleksandrya Dmitriyev; she is a friend of Hunter's." Artyom dispensed with the introductions hastily, although it seemed none were really needed from him as Ulman walked over to greet her.

"Call me Ulman; I'm a fixture in these ranks." Ulman said, bowing his head and putting a hand over his heart respectfully but not ceasing to smirk. "I'm also the smarter, stronger, and better-looking partner of Artyom over there."

Artyom frowned and rolled his eyes.

"It's nice to meet you." Aleks returned the niceties with an amused but cautious look on her face, glancing over at Artyom for some kind of verification that he would not give. "Please, just call me Aleks."

"You're an Aleks?" Ulman leaned back with surprise. "So that explains it!"

"Explains what?" Artyom interjected, stepping over by Aleks, subconsciously in a protective stance in front of her.

"Well, every time Hunter talked about visiting Aleks, I thought he meant your Uncle Aleks up there at Exhibition. Seemed strange to some of us that he would go up there so often… but it turns out all this time he's had a secret girlfriend!" Ulman slapped a hand over his knee and chuckled heartily.

Aleks trembled slightly and looked uncomfortable, giving Ulman a wary look. Just how many people in the Order had known about all this?

"Exactly how often was Hunter at VDNKh, Artyom?" Ulman gestured to him with one hand.

"I-I don't know…" Artyom raised his shoulders, looking nervously over at Aleks whose expression was now of piqued interest that commanded him to answer the question. "Maybe a few times a year?"

"Ha! And he was sneaking out almost twice a month sometimes!" Ulman laughed again, this time taking Aleks by the shoulder and whispering close to her. "Well, I think it's great. That just means you are already a part of the family!"

Aleks laughed with a tone of apprehension but nodded her head happily in response.

"She has a message for Melnik." Artyom said under his breath, trying to get Ulman off the subject.

"Uh, yes, you're right. The Colonel is expecting you both, I'll lead you inside." Ulman's playful smile immediately melted from his lips and his voice took on the same tone as when he was readying himself for combat. As humorous as he could be, Ulman also understood when he needed to be serious.

Leading onwards from the platform, they entered the main vestibule of D6 – if you could describe it as such. The massive internal bunker loomed over their head with several more levels of differently angled tracks above them. Aleks' craned her neck to see as they walked, and she groped for a strap on Artyom's rucksack to hold on to so she could continue to look around the enclosure without losing pace.

Artyom was finally home, for now, at least. As he predicted, his thoughts fell into place much better now that he had returned to the safety of the main base; he even looked forward to sitting down in his little room and reading a book. Wait… Book! He just realized that Nikolai and Dmitri had never actually given him any books as was his promised payment for going with them from Novokuznetskaya to Avtozavodskaya. He was just about to turn around and protest to Aleks when Ulman stopped suddenly and he nearly crashed face-first into his broad shoulders.

In just that short time they had reached the outer sector in which the main offices and intelligence rooms were. Artyom recognized the painted markings on the walls of the hallway that led onwards to Melnik's personal study and to the main operations center. There was also a radio room set up on the right and a rear stairway that led down to one of three training areas.

As Ulman side-stepped from in front of Artyom, Melnik was just exiting the frame of the hall that Artyom had just been musing about.

"Colonel Melnik, sir!" Artyom sounded loudly, standing tall and holding his head high, arms rigid by his sides.

"You've finally made it back, Artyom. And all in one piece? Good." The old stalker towered in stature over the pair as he closed the distance and stood at ease in front of them. He was attended by another Ranger whom Artyom didn't recognize. Melnik's eyes wrinkled at the corners as he displayed a welcoming and genuine smile. It was a rare sight to see the man smile so warmly and Artyom wondered if it was only because of the guest he had brought. "And you must be Aleks."

"Yes, Colonel. Aleksandrya Dmitriyev." Aleks tensed up noticeably, coming out from behind Artyom's back and standing firmly in a similar fashion.

"Hunter told me a little about you – a refugee from the Reich?" Melnik revealed his knowledge with a sigh, as if he knew her whole story. His smile had faded into one more of pity, and then his expression steeled as was usual.

"Yes, sir." Aleks cleared her throat. Artyom turned only his eyes in her direction without moving his head and saw her grasping at the cartridge around her neck, seemingly not wanting to part with it.

"Let's talk more in my office. Artyom, go with Ulman for now. I'll send for you in a little while, I still want to hear your report." Melnik gestured to the hallway and to Ulman respectively.

Aleks looked over at Artyom with an expression of uneasiness but thanked him in short before following Melnik out of sight.

Once again, the next time he would see her was thrown into question. Could that really have been their goodbye? At that moment he would have given anything to be privy to the conversation that was about to transpire in Melnik's office. Somehow he consoled himself by thinking she would still be there when he was summoned and he might be filled in.

Ulman had still been nearby watching him standing there, dumbfoundedly staring at the corridor that led to the office deep in thought, and sauntered over with a knowing grin.

"Come on Artyom, you'll see her again later." He confirmed, leading Artyom into the heart of the bunker with an arm around his shoulders. "We've got to get your gear cleaned up."

Artyom worked autonomously as Ulman helped him lay out all the things in his rucksack. He seemed to understand that Artyom wasn't in the mood to chat or joke and then left him to change uniforms while he returned the weapons to the armory. At his behest, Ulman agreed to leave Senya's and Aleks' pistols behind on the condition that they were unloaded. When Artyom asked why, Ulman got quiet and solemnly replied that it was a new rule. He was promised the ammunition back when he next checked out for a mission.

Gathering up a clean Spartan uniform, he shuffled down to the showering facilities silently. It seemed he was alone here, except for one young ranger shaving his face in front of a large basin and mirror. There was a moderate amount of steam filling the white tiled room, and Artyom chose the stall at the very end of the row so he could be alone in his thoughts again.

Letting the hot water run over his body, he hadn't noticed until now how tired his muscles were. They pulsed with dull pain as if every step he'd taken on his journey home was reverberating in his feet. His mind however, was once again consumed by what Aleks and Melnik might be talking about. The old stalker had professed that Hunter had already spoken to him about her existence, but what else had he already known?

If Melnik had any intel on Roten Spaten or Avtozavodskaya then he would have expected to have seen a symbol on one of the maps or heard about it in at least one briefing. But Artyom also knew to what lengths Aleks would go to protect her station, keep it secret, and to quell rumors about her clan. After all, he remembered, she was still being hunted by the Nazis.

The sound of the other Ranger closing the door as he left derailed Artyom's thoughts. He knew he had to focus more on how he would explain his experiences since the Church, but it was all rather straightforward. The past few days' events were all still fresh in his mind; it was more a question of how to edit it down to only the relevant bits. For instance, he knew immediately that he wouldn't speak about anything Khan had said to him. In fact, he wouldn't mention seeing the mysterious man to the Colonel at all. Reporting the possibility that their mission at the Gardens had failed, with no solid evidence, would only distract Melnik needlessly.

There was already general unrest amongst the Order as it became known around the Metro that D6 had been found. Aleks herself had warned him that everyone knew about the discovery. D6 had enough preserved food to sustain hundreds more people than the modest number that Sparta had in its ranks, supplies and other property in untold amounts, and probably enough weapons to end the world all over again.

Melnik, while steadfast about defense, was definitely softened by the thought of war with the surrounding territorial powers. The Nazi's were their most pressing of adversaries, their stations being the closest and they themselves one of the most volatile organizations in the entire Metro. Beginning a conflict with them would quickly drain the resources afforded to them in the warehouses beneath their feet.

His mind suddenly made the awful connection for him; what if the Nazis were to attack, as anyone could at any moment, and find Aleks here? Although not very likely, the idea made Artyom panic and he quickly dried himself and slipped on his normal blue uniform. The faster he finished his duties, the faster he could return to the office and see her again.


	18. The Colonel

**Chapter Eighteen**

Artyom had organized the remainder of his effects, putting back every thing in their places on the shelves and desk. Letting out a long drawn breath, he had a feeling that he'd be gathering up these same things again soon. There was very little downtime now that he had become a part of the Order and outside missions were becoming more frequent as they fought to secure their new base. He'd set about trying to write down some of his report in his journal but found himself too distracted by the dire thoughts that had worried him earlier. He had set the grey uniform that Aleks had given him aside to bring down to the laundry room, and Ulman found him just as he was leaving his room to do so.

"Has the Colonel called for me?" Artyom stopped and asked hopefully.

"Not yet. I was just coming to check on how you were doing. Got everything squared away?" Ulman asked without a hint of humor, making Artyom worry.

"I just need to get this uniform washed so I can give it back to her. They had me wear it on the way to Polis." Artyom rubbed his fingers over the faded material of the uniform appreciatively.

"They?" Ulman fell into step beside Artyom and cued him to talk as they walked.

"Aleks is part of a clan, well, she's actually the leader. Or… is she officially the station master there, too? But then Nikolai—"

"Artyomka, you're doing that thing again." Ulman chuckled and bumped Artyom's shoulder with his own. "Thinking and talking."

"Sorry…" Artyom took a breath and began again, more calm now that Ulman was being cordial again. "At Avtozavodskaya, Aleks runs a group of people; they call themselves Roten Spaten, it's German for Red Arrow. Named after the—"

"The train to St. Petersburg, yeah… Interesting." Ulman nodded his head thoughtfully.

"Yeah…" Artyom wondered if Ulman had ever been on said train; judging by the man's pensive look, it was quite likely that he had. "Well, anyway, one of her people, Nikolai – she named him as her replacement, so I guess he runs the group now, or at least until she gets back."

"Oh? I thought she was staying for good." Ulman frowned.

"Why? Did Melnik say something about it?" Artyom asked with the same expectant tone in his voice, hoping Ulman had some knowledge about what he'd missed since he left her with Melnik.

"No, but why else would the Colonel have let her down here? Why would Hunter have given her the cartridge?" Ulman brainstormed aloud.

"What is it about these cartridges, anyway?" Artyom tensed angrily, completely forgetting about the issue at hand. "Is that what you're supposed to give to someone if you think you're going to die? Do you have one, too?"

"No. And no." Ulman wasn't being very helpful. Artyom couldn't read anything from his tone of voice, either.

"What then? Hunter gave one to me back when, well, you know. But he gave one to Aleks too, and it seemed like she knew exactly what it was about." Artyom still wondered what had been inside the capsule he was given. Aleks had told him that her cartridge had a paper with her and Hunter's signatures, but Artyom had never signed anything. Nothing was ever said about him becoming a replacement for Hunter if his mission failed, yet here he was doing exactly that.

He still had no idea why Hunter had chosen him to go to Polis with his message. It could have been just simple convenience; that Hunter was friends with his step-father, or that Artyom happened to be on patrol that night when he arrived, or because he had confessed his childhood secret when nobody else at VDNKh would speak with the ominous visitor. Maybe Hunter had seen something in him that he was still not aware of himself.

"You should ask the Colonel about it, he can explain to you better than I can." Ulman patted him on the shoulder with a kind but apologetic expression.

They had reached the bottom floor where the laundry was done. Artyom went inside quickly and handed in his Roten Spaten uniform, wondering how much longer it would be until he was summoned to the office. There were just too many questions that needed answering, and it seemed that every time he began to wonder about one, other possibilities would obstruct his thoughts until they had all piled up hopelessly onto one another and it was impossible to keep on track. Was it time, yet?

As he exited the room, he realized that Ulman was speaking to a friend and decided to wait. Hopefully there would be further company and distraction.

"So, what, were they… together?" The unknown Ranger with his back to Artyom said under his breath.

"I don't know. I think— I have to go." Ulman replied in the same timbre, looking slightly alarmed by Artyom appearing so suddenly. He quickly rejoined his company but Artyom wasn't ready to walk back just yet.

"Is everyone talking about it?" Artyom said with annoyance.

"You thought you could keep her all to yourself or something?" Ulman began with scowl, but then softened up and changed his tone. "Look, this is a big deal. It's not like Hunter opened up to many people in the first place… anyway, people want to know why."

"Why what?" Artyom threw his hands up, trying not to yell. "It's none of their business."

"It will be if she stays." Ulman replied almost in a whisper, taking Artyom firmly by the bicep and urging him to move on, possibly so that they could continue the conversation in private.

Artyom found himself again thinking that if Aleks were a man, nobody would think twice about the situation or what might happen because of it. There definitely didn't seem to be such a big deal when he'd become a Ranger and, if he was being honest with himself, he wasn't very good at it. Aleks, however, had been personally trained by Hunter; her skills in stealth and weaponry honed by his experience, her mind tempered by his ethereally gloomy outlook. If it turned out to be true that Aleks was to become a Spartan, she deserved the job well more than he did.

As they were reaching the top level there seemed to be more activity going on near the main command hall than there had been earlier. Most of the men running back and forth weren't in full battle dress, so either they were late to an evacuation drill, or the soldiers were in the midst of rearranging supplies. It wasn't uncommon for an area to be established for one thing and then be switched to a different area as more of the massive bunker was being explored and cleared. They had found an entire level of a warehouse filled with several recent models of tanks and artillery vehicles. Another level even had several crates with weapons dating back to 1942 - sturdy bolt-action rifles, sub machine guns, marksman carbines, and three different types of Tokarev arms. Nobody had yet gone through to see if any of those were in working order, but whether D6 proved to be an armory or a museum, it was still an incredible find.

Artyom hadn't even noticed that there hadn't been any chatter on their way back upstairs until Ulman began saying he would go and see if the Colonel was ready for him yet. Once again he felt his stomach turn, wondering if he would see Aleks coming out from the hallway or if she was even still in there. He began also to hope that she was staying permanently, for more than a few reasons. Maybe she would teach him some of the things that Hunter had taught her, and then he might feel more useful or even worthy of his endorsement.

Ulman returned quickly and Artyom jumped to an uncomfortable position of attention, half expecting to see Melnik or Aleks walking behind him. He slackened after Ulman reached him and no one else followed.

"You can go in now." Ulman said flatly, giving him one last pat on the shoulder and sending him off.

Again, the lack of humor in Ulman's voice made him nervous.

* * *

><p>"You asked to see me, sir?" Artyom said quietly, stepping tentatively into the small well-lit room and waiting for the Colonel to look up at him. Was he expecting him to be angry?<p>

"Yes, Artyom. Have a seat and then you can tell me your side of the story." Melnik gestured to a padded chair adjacent to his desk, then moved his paperwork to the side and folded his arms together on the desk.

Artyom did as he was told, although somewhat reluctantly. He wanted to ask how long it had been since Aleks had left before he had come, but the Colonel's intent stare forced him to file through his memories and start his report at the beginning. Back three days ago, maybe four now, to the outpost at the Church.

"I-I'm not sure exactly when the commotion started outside the Church…" Artyom stammered, recalling his daydreams about the Dark Ones, but not wanting to include such talk in discussions with the commander. "I was standing guard at the spotlight, but I hadn't seen anything until someone called the alarm. I turned on the light and the other guys were already going out the door."

Melnik nodded his head slightly, but gave no hint of any expression that told what he was thinking.

"Soon, they were overrun and Grigori Igorevich told me to come down with my weapon and I did. We formed a circle right outside the door and closed it up. One of the watchmen tackled me, I guess I was dazed for a bit, every one spread out and they were still shooting. I was lying on the ground at the side of the road with my weapon but it was all going so fast. Next thing, a demon was screeching and Semyon Antonovich was telling me to run. We didn't look back, just ran. He said the others had made it down the road to Oktyabrskaya, but neither of us was certain."

"So, Semyon went with you?" Melnik said with surprise, sitting back and gesturing for Artyom to finish.

"Yes, but, after a hundred meters or so, he stopped. He gave me his pistol and told me how to get to Novokuznetskaya." Artyom paused, watching the face of the rugged soldier coughing fitfully and sweat dripping into his eyes. "His mask was cracked open, and I didn't have another…"

"It's alright, Artyom. We all know the risks." Melnik was quick to comfort him. "What happened when you got to Novokuznetskaya?"

"Senya said it was a free station, and that they had a radio I could make contact with Polis via Hanza. Did the message ever come through?" Artyom found himself questioning the purity of that man Valya that he'd met there at Novokuznetskaya. He was a solid member of Roten Spaten, and seemed to be their main intelligence officer, but he had never confirmed that his message had gone through.

"Of course. But we were a bit worried when you didn't come back for two days after that. So, what next?" Melnik said gruffly, but then relaxed and leaned onto his desk. He seemed genuinely interested in how Artyom had wound up at Avtozavodskaya. Perhaps Aleks wasn't so willing to give up her secrets of how she managed to capture a Ranger.

"They gave me a tent, and in the morning the guy who'd let me in had two friends with him. I guess they were traders, refugees from the Red Line, and they told me they were going to Avtozavodskaya and needed help carrying some stuff through Hanza. It wasn't that far past the Ring, so I helped them go by. You have to go through Paveletskaya too, and it's all patched up there now."

"I see. I'd never known what was beyond the marked stations." Melnik made a small note on a paper to his left. Had Aleks really told him nothing of her station?

"Well, when we got there they led me into a room right before the station. Aleks, or, Aleksandrya Dmitriyev was standing there. She said she had a few questions, but then I could go. She had a cartridge, the same as the one Hunter gave to me to give to you." Artyom leaned forward in his seat, engrossed in his own story as the memory of each moment played like a cinema film in his mind while he talked. "What are these cartridges for? Are you supposed to give one to someone you trust if you think you're going to die? For them to be your replacement?"

"No." Melnik replied shortly, and Artyom felt his heart sink the same as it did when Ulman didn't answer him on the subject. "Really, it's just an old communications system. Radio messages can be intercepted, letters too. But I suppose with Hunter it was a little bit different—" The Colonel cut himself short.

Artyom fell silent, his head swirling with this new information. After all this time with Aleks and her cartridge he was beginning to think it was some significant token when it was really nothing more than another avenue of communication. But the Colonel had said it was a different case with Hunter, so was he perhaps some kind of a recruiter for the Spartans?

"She had questions for you? How did she even know who you were?" Melnik led Artyom to continue his story with his own questions.

"I don't think she was looking for me specifically." Artyom entertained the notion for a few seconds. "No, I think she just had her people looking out for anyone with the same uniform. Any of us might have known about Hunter."

Melnik nodded his head, trying to hide a wry smirk, apparently impressed with Aleks' tactics.

"Well, she asked me if I had seen him and I only told her because of the cartridge. The mission is over now so…" Artyom paused, searching the Colonel's face for a reaction, still waiting for the moment he would say something that would earn him a reprimand. "I told her he'd gone to the Gardens and disappeared. They knew about the Dark Ones… Do you think Hunter told her where he was going, too?"

"It's quite possible. It seems he may have visited her before his patrol and subsequent visit to your station." Melnik put a hand to his stubbly chin thoughtfully. "Go on."

"Well, the next day they had said they would escort me back to Polis, but it seems everything went wrong as soon as we left. We were going to go through Hanza of course, but then one of her men said he spotted a spy there named Sturmann – a Nazi. He was, or is, looking for Aleks."

"Yes, unfortunate, but that is how they run things in their stations. Did she ever say why he was after her?" Melnik continued to reveal that there were still many things he didn't know about her background although he had assumedly talked to her for a few hours.

"No, just that she had escaped from Tverskaya. It seems they have a 'no tolerance' policy, sort of like the Reds." Artyom also considered the possibilities to that question, what exactly was she running from?

"What next?"

"We, uh, we went north to Venice, and there some bandits started a fight with her man Andrei Ivanovich. Aleks and I had gone the other way, but then there were gunshots. There was a panic, and a fire, and everyone was running. Another of her guys Semyon put us on a boat, she didn't want to leave her men, but we had to. We were heading to Revolution Square initially, but the boat wouldn't go that way so they dropped us at Kitai Gorod. Then there were more mutants, we went over the surface to Kuznetsky Most."

"This is quite the trip. No wonder it took you so long." Melnik furrowed his brow, making another scribble on the paper beside him. "Well, at least it's a good story. Go on."

"We passed a squad of Red soldiers led by a Comorade Major. I don't know where they were going, but they said that they had to go around because of Venice."

Melnik made another note along with a grunt.

"At Kuznetsky Most there was a cordon, so we had to wait overnight, and then passed to Lubyanka in the morning. After there, two of Aleks' men found us and that's when she named Nikolai as her successor until she got back. I don't know his other names but he has a twin brother named Dmitri. They went back to Avtozavodskaya and we crossed through this eerie tunnel from Okhotny Ryad. There was a big fight there, strange nosalises with black fur, and blood everywhere."

"This is where the anomaly attacked you?" Melnik had his pen poised, not looking up from the paper at all as Artyom had been talking.

"I didn't see it…" Artyom admitted with regret. "But it did something to Aleks. She said she heard music, and she collapsed. When she recovered, we went the rest of the way to Polis."

Melnik nodded slowly as he finished writing down what Artyom had reported.

For a minute, Artyom debated whether or not he should tell the Colonel about Aleks' mention of her plans to go to Emerald City. He had felt so special to be trusted with her 'true mission' but he wasn't sure if she had mentioned it to Melnik or not and didn't want to betray that trust by selling her out. He decided, for now, to keep it a secret just between the two of them.

"Where is Aleks now?" Artyom spoke tentatively, as Melnik had finished writing but hadn't looked up.

"I sent her with Anna for a tour and to the women's barracks for some rest. I was going to have her in sniper training with Anna and Katya after an evaluation. It seems that Hunter taught her more than I thought he would have, unless the Nazis give military training to all their citizens. I'm not sure what his interest in her was but, at least, it seems that it remained innocent."

Innocent? Artyom didn't want to explore the question. He recalled the night at Kuznetsky Most when both he and Aleks had told some of their deeper secrets and stories; she had said she was in love with Hunter, but that he didn't share her affection in return. Still, it didn't answer his side of the equation and Melnik had a point. Could it have been that Hunter was also in love with her and just never said so? Maybe he'd been afraid to be open with her for fear that someone would hurt her while he was away. Artyom could identify with such reasoning.

"Can I speak with her again?" Artyom dared, hoping the Colonel wouldn't read anything into his request. Even he wasn't sure at that moment precisely what he wanted to speak with her about – just that he wanted to see her again before anything happened.

"You'll see her around." Melnik gave the same knowing grin that Ulman had given him when he left her side earlier. "As it is, I haven't anything for you to do yet. Have yourself something to eat and then come by the armory later. We're going to start testing some of the equipment we found."

"Yes, sir." Artyom stood and turned to leave, but something forced him to turn back. "About the cartridges again… do you still have the one I brought?"

Melnik said nothing in reply, but began to rummage in the top drawer of his desk. After a moment, he pulled the dulled brass casing from the pile, still attached to the black string that hung around his neck for so long. He held it out to him, and Artyom accepted it with reverence, clutching it tightly in his fist and then examining it closely.

"Am I to find my own replacement, too?" Artyom didn't immediately realize that he'd spoken his thoughts aloud.

"There is no replacement for you, so don't go giving it to anyone else." Melnik stood up and came around in front of Artyom. Putting both of his large calloused hands on his shoulders, the old Stalker gave a warm but sympathetic smile. "No Ranger is more dear to our cause than our Savior."

Artyom nodded his head, but only because it was expected of him at times when his detested title was mentioned. In any case, Melnik was proud of him for carrying out the despicable attack against the Dark Ones and he could at the very least enjoy the benefits that afforded him before he recognized his utter worthlessness. Turning around stiffly, trapped in his thoughts, he managed to leave the room.


	19. Part of the Family

**Chapter Nineteen**

Artyom returned to his room in Sector Б3, it was one of the smaller divisions of the bunker in which there was an existing row of barrack rooms. The room he had been assigned was a small single-person room on the bottom level of a two-story enclosure. He stood in the doorway for a few moments, looking over his organized but cluttered space. His favorite pair of black combat boots were still drying on the radiator in the corner, and all his postcards were hung on the back wall above his bed. All but one - the one of the large green statue with the pointy crown that Hunter had given him. That card rested on the middle of the three shelves to his right that hung above his desk, and now, he had another of the Ranger's tokens to add to it.

He took a step further inside and turned on the desk lamp, it had a dim yellow bulb but Artyom was of course grateful for such a luxury. Holding up the prized cartridge in his palm, he suddenly wondered if the small scrap of paper was still inside – the very paper that Hunter had asked him to deliver to Melnik. Had the Colonel disposed of it after reading its message?

Sinking down onto his creaky military cot, he scrutinized the cap of the cartridge and found that it unscrewed from the rest of the casing. Carefully winding it around so as not to drop the pieces once it separated, he opened the capsule and saw the paper inside. He drew in a deep breath, subconsciously holding it as he wiggled it out into his hand. The slim strip of paper was folded lengthwise and then rolled up to fit inside the cartridge. Artyom flattened it out carefully, knowing that the precious words inscribed upon it may have been the last ones that the noble Hunter had ever written.

"Colonel, I am to contend with the Dark Ones in the Gardens alone. If I do not return, you know what to do. Take care of the kid who brings this to you – you will need him. – Hunter."

Artyom read and re-read the note several times, one reason being that the hasty scribbling was hard to make out but also because he was trying to determine exactly what Hunter had meant when saying that Melnik would need him. Did Hunter know that Artyom's mental link with the Dark Ones would serve some kind of purpose in their mission to destroy them? In Artyom's mind, all it had done was confuse him and make every step of that expedition more difficult, as he was always second guessing his purpose and reasoning. Had this been Hunter's way of saying that Artyom was to be his replacement? He was ashamed to admit that he didn't know the legendary Ranger as well as he thought he did – not well enough to understand the subtle meanings behind his short and cryptic sentences.

Letting out the held breath in a long exasperated sigh, he fell backwards onto the cot and closed his eyes. Without looking down at his hands he managed to stuff the note back inside and seal the capsule, tucking it into his breast pocket. Perhaps he might show it to Ulman later as see if he could determine any further meaning from it. Or, if he was able to see Aleks again, she might be willing to compare her note with his own. Besides the signatures, he wondered if there were any similar sayings written in her capsule. Had Melnik allowed her to keep it?

He sat up suddenly, wondering where she might be at this time and how long it had actually been since they had parted ways. What time was it now? He checked his watch; ten to midnight. It had been a lot longer than he thought it had been, since they had arrived at D6 just before three in the afternoon. Feeling his stomach rumble, he next understood that he hadn't eaten anything since breakfast at Kuznetsky Most. He recognized that he had quite the bad habit of getting caught up in arbitrary chaos for hours and days without a proper meal in between. Melnik had been right when he told him to get some food. He had almost a fatherly bearing over Artyom, and although the line between caring mentor and stern commander was blurred at times, he was appreciative of the concern.

Well, if going to get some dinner was an order, Artyom couldn't refuse it anyway. He smiled to himself at the entertaining thought and went to turn the light out before leaving his room again. At the last moment before turning the switch on the lamp, he noticed Aleks and Senya's pistols lying on his desk. He let his fingers slip over the surface of them both; Senya's pistol was a scratched up Tokarev, and might have been a family heirloom of his as that model hadn't been in service for a number of decades. Aleks' Makarov pistol was the same as what the military had been using before the end of the world, although upon closer inspection it looked as if the silencer she had attached to it had been made in the Metro. He gathered up her weapon and placed it in his own belt holster, mentally noting to return it to her when he saw her. He hoped that would be soon.

Leaving the room in darkness, he closed the door gently and headed for the central hall. The route downstairs to the mess hall was already engrained in his head, although he had to wait a few minutes for the lift to stop at his floor. It seemed that the commotion from upstairs still hadn't ceased as the elevator car had gone past his stop a few times loaded with boxes. He had never found out what all the movement was about but perhaps someone in the mess hall would be gossiping about it, then he wouldn't have to ask.

When the elevator finally stopped to let him on, he rode it up one story to the Alpha level, one deck below the station platforms of Metro-2. From there, one had to walk around to the other side of the cylindrical hall, in the center of which a great spiraling lift curled around itself as two entwined sets of rails that could take you to the central switchboard or to the lowest level before reaching the reactor at the very bottom. You couldn't see or access the reactor level from the bottom of the spiral lift, but there was a sealed grate lying flat between the two sections, and he had been told that the square recesses in the floor there could be opened on the occasion that the reactor began to overheat in order to ventilate it.

As he entered the mess hall, he noticed a small crowd of soldiers huddled together by the back wall. It seemed they were gathered around a particular person; perhaps someone had just come back from a patrol and had begun to tell some embellished half-true tale of what happened on their watch. Drawing closer, he could make out the main voice amongst the murmurs of the other listeners and to his surprise it was Aleks speaking. At first, he felt a halting tightness in his chest, and couldn't help but be slightly jealous that she had been here telling stories when he'd been wasting time wandering around waiting to see her again. But now that he was here it felt awkward, and it was obvious that what Ulman had said to her rang true – she seemed to fit right in with these soldiers and be 'a part of the family' as he had said.

Artyom ventured a little closer, trying to catch the topic of conversation before he could feel comfortable enough in the room to actually get himself something to eat.

"…real electric sewing machines, although there were ones with a foot pedal too. I can never forget the sound of the motors. Anyway, it wasn't so bad there, although sometimes the foreman would take on a 'favorite' girl for a while…" Aleks' voice faded as she noticed Artyom walking up to the group. Her face looked tired, and somehow her eyes were apologizing to him, although her lips were drawn up into a permanent smile as she had been telling her story.

"And, were you…?" A soldier Artyom didn't know asked tentatively, leaning so far forward in his chair that Artyom thought he might tip it over at any second.

"Not me, no." Aleks confirmed and Artyom felt a little more at ease. "I suppose you could say that is when I learned the value of remaining unnoticed. Most of the girls tried to comb their hair nice, or have their clothes ironed so that they might be chosen next… but if you ask me the extra rations were not worth one's dignity." She concluded with an indignant huff.

"Wow! So how did you get away from there?" Another young man with short blonde hair asked.

"Ah, that is a story for another time I think. It is getting to be late after all. And you have a watch in fifteen minutes, Yevgeniy!" She scolded the blonde soldier with a finger.

"Alright, alright." The soldier conceded, and as he got up to leave the hall, the rest of the group started to disperse as well.

Artyom quickly went over to the serving table and got himself a bowl of whatever stew had been brewing that day, not caring exactly what it was, just that it was warm and nourishing. He chose a table on the opposite side of the room where nobody had been sitting at all.

On the inside, he was a jumbled mess of half-finished questions. Now that he was in her presence again, he wasn't sure at all what to say to her. It would be too casual and forward to just begin speaking about the cartridges or to give her the pistol back without any prior conversation – or was it? And if he began by asking her what she had been doing in the last nine hours he risked sounding too inquisitive or even aloof. As soon as he had begun to narrow down the first thing he might say to her, he noticed her coming over towards him and everything flew out of his mind at once. He shut his eyes, hoping somehow that time would pause until he had gotten that thought back into his head and sorted out how to respond to what she might say.

"Hello Artyom." She said softly, putting one foot up on the bench beside him and leaning both arms over her knee.

"Hi." He squeaked, quickly taking a spoonful of stew into his mouth as an excuse not to speak.

"Did you talk to the Colonel?"

Artyom nodded his head, keeping his eyes somewhere between her boot and his supper, afraid to look into her eyes and lose what small power he had regained over his mind.

"And? Are you in any trouble?" Aleks shifted on her other foot, trying to lean down to see his expression. "I told him that the delay wasn't your fault, so I hope he didn't lecture you or anything."

"No, he didn't." Artyom answered, setting down his spoon as he had finally decided to tell her about the cartridge; at least then he would be in control of the conversation topic. "I asked him for the cartridge that Hunter gave me."

"Yeah?" Aleks said with a smile, taking her foot down and sitting sideways on the bench beside him.

"It even still has the note inside." Artyom pulled the string with the capsule from his pocket and held it out to her.

Aleks grasped the cartridge with the same level of reverent care with which she handled her own, and Artyom was humbled by it. He just now understood how close they were, symbolically bonded together by their mutual connection with the missing Ranger. So, it wouldn't really matter what he said to her, because that bond would always be in place no matter where they were, or whether Hunter proved to be alive or dead – she would still be a part of him and, hopefully, she would remember him as well.

"So I suppose it was the same thing, only he never told you what to expect. He must have been really worried about going up to the surface to have written this." Aleks dropped her shoulders and her excited smile faded. "I can't think of any other time that he ever thought he wouldn't succeed. Perhaps he knew what would meet him in the Gardens."

"Did he tell you that's where he was going?" Artyom asked, wondering if she would think it rude if he continued to eat while they talked.

"He never said exactly where he was headed, but he knew about the Dark Ones coming to your station. I think somehow their existence bothered him, who knows why, but I know he felt that it was his duty to be the one to go after them." Her eyes remained on his cartridge cradled in her hands.

"Really, it was mine." Artyom admitted with a melancholy sigh. "I shouldn't have let him go. It was my fault. It was too dangerous, even for him."

"As if you could have stopped him!" Aleks snorted, and then fell silent as she realized that her joke hadn't lifted Artyom's spirits. She began speaking again in a softer tone. "Listen, of course it isn't your fault. About the hermetic door, maybe. But Hunter was determined to go and find out where those creatures were living. When he decides on something, nothing can hold him back."

Artyom noticed how she had begun to slip and speak of Hunter as if he were still present.

"Anyway, I haven't even gone to open the box he left behind. I feel like, if I open it, then he really is never going to come back…" her voice had lowered nearly to a whisper by the end of her solemn statement. Artyom could feel her tension and rising grief.

"He wanted you to have those things." Artyom finally looked over at her face and put a hand on her arm to comfort her. "It's best if you have them, no doubt there are some weapons and gear he left. It would help keep you safe."

"Would you come with me?" Aleks wasted no time in asking, placing her hand over his to prevent him from letting go of her arm.

Artyom only nodded, finding he had no voice to reply to her with. All he could focus on was the warmth of her touch. With his other hand he took her pistol from his holster and offered the grip to her.

"We'll have to get your ammunition back at the armory." He said softly, already feeling a chill on his hand after she'd taken hers away to grab the pistol.

"Thank you." She exchanged her pistol with his cartridge, placing it on the table and the weapon back in her own holster. "This was the first weapon I ever owned. Andrei Ivanovich gave it to me as we were leaving Tverskaya. I'd never even shot a gun before!"

"Well, you're very good at it now." Artyom said awkwardly, then turned back to his stew, which was getting cold, and taking in another mouthful to distract from the strange compliment.

Aleks simply giggled and shook her head slightly to agree with him.

"The box he left is down in the armory, do you want to meet me there later?" She said as she rose from her seat and combed at her hair with her fingers.

"Actually, I should be heading there soon anyway. We are going to test some of those old weapons from the store room."

"Okay then, I'll go have a chat with Katya and then we'll go when you're ready. She's on kitchen duty right now." Aleks gestured towards the room set behind this one where the actual cooking and dish washing was done. She smiled brightly at him and gave a small wave as she walked off, leaving him to his meal.


	20. Rumors Of My Demise Are Exaggerated

**Author's Note:**

That's right, I named the chapter after a Rise Against song, haha. But I think it fits and I also listen to copious amounts of Rise Against songs while I write (along with some other stuff). It really helps set the tone of the post-apocalyptic world for me, so it might be cool if you try to listen to it in the background while you're reading this! (_Endgame_, _Satellite_, _Long Forgotten Sons_, _Bridges_, and _Wait For Me_ are some of my favorites.)

In other news, I have finally gotten my hands on an English copy of Metro 2034 so I am now finding out what happened to Hunter after he disappeared at the Botanical Gardens! I may have to tweak my ideas for the sequel to this story depending on how 2034 leaves off, but there's a good chance I might just write it how I already see it - despite it may not fit in as well with the canonical story... There are also plans for a much shorter prequel that is just about Aleks' backstory leading up to the beginning of "Liberation"

Stay tuned and please review!

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Twenty<strong>

Artyom took his time finishing his meal, as it gave him more time to regain hold of his thoughts. As soon as Aleks had walked into the next room he instantly felt more at ease but somehow also enervated. It was almost as if time had been skipped forward for him; he remembered only blotches of having come down into the mess hall and nothing of the uncomfortable feelings that hindered the interaction that he had been so looking forward to.

Glancing over his shoulder, he quickly assessed the state of the room and who was left in it. Two soldiers still sat four tables down, where they had been listening to the engrossing history of Aleks' childhood, periodically looking over at Artyom and whispering to each other. While he had initially been the one feeling aggrieved about missing out on hearing her stories, it seemed that now these other Rangers felt that way about him. They must have noticed when Aleks had come over to talk to him alone and now were left wondering what made him so special. It seemed that the news which heralded the arrival of the clandestine acquaintance of the missing Hunter had been conveniently stripped of Artyom's involvement.

Upon further consideration, Artyom was almost thankful for it. He didn't particularly want to be the name on everyone's lips, and preferred to be left out of whatever extra rumors were circulating about the exact nature of her relationship with the veteran Stalker and why he had never mentioned her before. The last thing he needed was for anyone to think that he had somehow taken up Hunter's role in the affair. No, the thought of having such things in common with her was to be his thought and his alone. 'Let them talk.' He thought, trying to hide a wry smile from the two soldiers who were still eyeing him suspiciously. None of them would ever know the minute details and intricate conversations that he had already shared with her. With that comforting reflection, he took his now empty bowl and headed for the kitchen.

"No, believe me, she's always like that." Spoke a high feminine voice with disgust.

"Ugh," Aleks groaned, "Does she think she's so special just because she is Melnik's daughter? Or what, she doesn't get enough attention from him or something?"

"Who knows? The Colonel keeps his private life, well… private."

It must be that girl Katya talking with Aleks, thought Artyom to himself as he slipped into the room silently, not wanting to interrupt their gossiping or make them think he was eavesdropping. Although, the few words he had just heard spun his mind into creating the rest of that tale in its own chronicle. It sounded as if something had happened between Aleks and Anna - who was the highest-ranking female in the company of the Order and also its top sniper.

"Hello Artyom." Katya said with a smile, turning in his direction and putting a hand on one hip. Apparently she had known he was there the whole time.

"Hello." Artyom said quietly. He had seen Katya in D6 before, but hadn't ever formally introduced himself or paid much attention to anyone else's activities.

"Aleks told me about how you saved her from the anomaly in the service passage." Katya beamed, turning back to stir whatever next batch of chow was in the large pot on the stove.

"Katya!" Aleks scolded and her cheeks flushed bright red. "It wasn't like that…"

"Not really like that, no." Artyom confirmed, still watching the adorably discomfited face of Aleks and trying to imagine just how she had recounted the tale to her friend. "I didn't even see it, actually."

"Well, still, she said you carried her out before it came back again." Katya winked at Aleks; it seemed she was trying to instigate something or make fun of Aleks somehow but Artyom wasn't very in tune with understanding the subtleties of feminine connotation.

"Are you ready to go to the armory?" Aleks asked uneasily, not looking directly at him. Her arms crossed tightly over her chest and her face was still a deep pink.

Artyom nodded energetically, as it seemed that he and Aleks both wanted to escape from the curious insinuations of Katya. Not wasting another second, Aleks tore out of the room without saying goodbye to her friend and he followed quickly after her. Even after exiting the hall he could hear Katya giggling behind them.

It seemed that just as soon as he'd regained himself from his earlier ineptitude, the air had become tense again and Katya's words echoed in his ears. What exactly was she trying to suggest? Had Aleks really described their encounter with the anomaly to her in such a way to make her think that Artyom had acted like some story book hero? Aleks was certainly no damsel in distress needing to be rescued. Then again, he was starting to understand how his carrying her limp body out from that disturbing hallway could be seen in a different light.

"Katya likes to play jokes," Aleks began, once again reading his mind and answering questions he had never asked aloud. But then she seemed to forget what she wanted to say next.

"It's alright." Artyom attempted to show a comforting smile, but Aleks didn't look at him and so it was lost on her. Maybe changing the subject would relieve her and then the atmosphere might return to normal between them. "Did something happen with you and Anna?"

"Oh, that."Aleks let out a huff. "No, nothing bad happened. I just don't like her attitude. She seems entitled somehow, kind of a know-it-all type. I mean, I already know how to use a Dragunov... and she's treating me like a child."

"Did Hunter teach you?" Artyom spoke before he had meant to, but Aleks didn't seem to mind the question this time.

"Of course. What else, I told you he taught me a lot of things." Aleks held up a hand as if she could physically hold all the individual things that Hunter had shown her.

"Sorry, I just…" Artyom set about apologizing; trying to get his mouth to catch up to where his mind was a hundred meters ahead of him asking its own questions.

"No, I know. He left you unprepared. I mean, I'm sure you knew already how to use a rifle before you got here…" Aleks stammered, seemingly also detached from her actual thoughts. "There's a way he has about his mind, how he looks at things, processes them. It's a sort of meditation, and he can sense things around him that you can't see or hear."

Artyom couldn't nail down a specific question to add to the conversation, but he was delighted to hear her speak of the man who had constructed his current life path. She had known Hunter much more intimately and Artyom was finally learning to be appreciative of the fact as it afforded him more information about the man he only thought he understood.

"I can't do that like he can, but it was always fascinating to watch him. Sometimes we would go into the tunnels towards Turganevskaya, just to see how quiet we could be."

Artyom examined her face as she reminisced, her mind transported to those very tunnels on the Kaluzhsko-Rizhskaya Line which he used to call home. He scoffed internally, trying to imagine why anyone would go into that cursed tunnel just for fun. Sometimes he still couldn't decide if Hunter was boldly reckless because he was so sure of himself or just plain mad.

"Once we even got stuck overnight near Marksistskaya—" Aleks' voice had gotten higher.

Looking over at her again, he just noticed she was dabbing at her eyes with one hand, trying to wipe away tears before they fell. Her happy recollections of the veteran Stalker had only instigated her guilt and grief. Without a second thought, he stopped and reached over her shoulders and pulled her closer to him until she was tucked under his arm. They were a few steps from the lift, so he thought it was better to help her compose herself before heading into the usually busy armory where Melnik and Ulman were probably already waiting for him.

"Do you really think he was killed, Artyom?" Aleks' eyes pleaded, the silvery blue shades of grey reminding him of the gloomy sky over the city above them.

"I don't know." His head sunk and he had to look away from her sorrowful eyes before they consumed him. "It's just strange that he would completely disappear. If he had gone down fighting, there would be a trace of him somewhere."

"Didn't anyone go after him?" She grasped at the sleeve on his other arm, trying to steady herself as she breathed sharply.

"I don't even know how long it took me to get to Polis after he left." Artyom speedily flipped through the memories of all the misfortune he'd encountered on what seemed like such a simple journey. "When I finally found Colonel Melnik, the task was to find the missiles to destroy the Dark Ones."

Aleks shook her head in disbelief and sniffed back another wave of tears, now gripping at both sleeves as he had loosened his embrace and taken a step back. He felt as if he had personally failed her, and regretted that no one had gone to look for Hunter at any time, even when they had gone to Ostankino Tower.

"I'm sorry. It wasn't my decision." Artyom's voice cracked at the end, as it seemed he had been swept under by the current of her sorrow. Dragged into the limitless depths beneath the unstable platform he'd built up in his mind to stand on which made his wretched life just barely tolerable enough to go on with.

There was a long time spent there with Aleks clutching his sleeves and Artyom standing as still as a statue, lost in the torrent of disappointment and regret that flowed around them both. The elevator passed their floor several times without stopping, and Aleks had become quiet. He could barely tell from his angle above her that her eyes were shut as if she were intensely concentrating on something, but he couldn't be sure what she was thinking at this moment. After another minute of watching her, he decided to take her hands with his own. If she was wanting to hold on to him, then he wanted to be there for her.

"Aleks?" Artyom said softly after several more minutes had passed in silence. He almost wanted to lift her head the way he had seen Nikolai do earlier, but didn't want to let go of her hand.

She stirred slowly, her brows furrowed and then relaxed. Her eyelids fluttered and then opened fully, and she looked up at him with a bewildered appearance as if she were seeing him for the first time.

"Are you alright?" He asked tentatively, wondering if she even noticed that he had been holding on to her all this time.

"I was trying to meditate, like he used to, to see if I could sense him… or something like that." She looked around them, as if expecting to see Hunter's ghostly apparition floating nearby somewhere. "I couldn't see anything, but I heard his voice."

"What was he saying?" Artyom indulged her fantasy if only to keep her calm, as she seemed to be now.

"I don't know… it was sort of jumbled." Her voice wavered, and she looked up at him again and shook her head. "I'm sorry. It's probably just old memories."

"Maybe you should get some rest. Have you slept?" Artyom convinced himself to let one of his hands go from hers, at least to see if she noticed the sensation or not.

"Not very much. When Anna brought me to the barracks I had a few hours, but this place is so big I just couldn't settle down." Aleks now released his other hand and Artyom was regretful that he had brought her attention to it.

"After this, you should try to sleep. It's very late and I don't know what might happen in the next few days." Artyom pressed hard on the button that summoned the elevator.

Aleks simply nodded her head in agreement; it seemed her head was still wrapped up in her aural imaginings of Hunter.

Artyom wanted to know more about what she had heard, but worried that asking about it might bring her to tears again. He wondered if her being able to hear such things was some leftover side effect from the encounter with the anomaly, when she had heard her father singing to her. Had it bestowed some kind of special gift unto her? Khan had mentioned that it 'took a liking to her,' could that be what he had actually meant? Artyom had never taken notice of this kind of meditation before, although it had also been a practice that Khan had talked about vaguely. Could one simply close their eyes and connect to some higher level of consciousness? A level which spoke unknowable things to you and gave advice on which tunnels were dangerous or safe? He intended to try it for himself at a later time; perhaps Aleks would be willing to show him how.


	21. Thread Cutter

**Chapter Twenty-One**

"You know, I've been thinking about something and meant to ask you earlier." Artyom said as they exited the lift at the lowest level.

Aleks turned her head, her eyes showing concern.

"Well, when I agreed to leave Novokuznetskaya with Nikolai – he had promised me some books as payment." Artyom grinned lopsidedly, hoping his gesture would lift her spirits.

"Oh." Aleks said with surprise, seemingly relieved that it was an innocent question on a completely different subject than the depressing one they had just been speaking of. "I'm sorry; I didn't know anything about that."

"It's okay, I don't really mind. I guess I forgot all about it when I saw you standing there." Artyom recalled the image of their first meeting; her imposing figure being revealed to him like a performer from behind a stage curtain. She was his true prize, and having met her was payment enough for walking to Avtozavodskaya with Nikolai and Dmitri.

"I have an old book I could give you, if you want. I don't know if you would like it or not." Aleks grabbed at one arm awkwardly and stared at the floor. "It's a copy of Ivan Turgenev's most famous novel."

"Maybe I will borrow it, and give it back to you when I'm done." He tried to come up with any excuse he could to see her again at later dates. "Even if you go back to Avtozavodskaya, I'll bring it to you there."

"If I go back…" She mused aloud, still appearing as if she were caught between this plane and the ethereal one. "I don't know what I'll do yet."

"So, you _are_ going to stay?" Artyom said hopefully, and stopped just outside of the armory doors.

"You've been listening to everyone talk." Aleks dropped her head, and then looked straight up at him. "Melnik wants to test me. Hunter wanted me to be a part of the Order, I always knew he did… but I can't just leave my home, my people."

Artyom listened to her anxiously, his heart pounding as he waited for her final decision. It's not that he couldn't agree with her reasoning, it's just that he really wanted her to stay. What would Nikolai say if she returned to Avtozavodskaya without an escort? What would Hunter say if she were not protected, if her dreams were never realized?

"I told you about my true mission. I don't want to be stuck living under this dead city forever, and now that D6 has been discovered, there will surely be more conflict. What difference will it make if I am in one station or another? Now that Hunter is—" Aleks bit her lower lip hard, not able to finish the sentence.

"I know but—" Artyom took in a breath, trying to slow his heartbeat and focus on making his words come out right this time. "I wish you would stay."

Aleks had begun to reach out to him and say something, but just as she had moved, the doors to the armory slid open and who was walking out from the warehouse but Ulman. He had a large crate in his arms; apparently he had become part of the crew that was moving things around upstairs.

"Woah! Sorry to interrupt you kids." He laughed and kept walking away as he talked to them, trying to press the button for the lift with his elbow. "Melnik is waiting for you, Artyom."

"Yes sir." Artyom parroted, not even turning his head to answer his partner who at the moment only annoyed him. It had not been the proper moment for humor, orders, or disruption.

"I haven't told Melnik anything about Emerald City; I don't think it's the right time, yet." Aleks continued as if the thirty seconds of Ulman walking by hadn't even occurred. "For now, I'm keeping my promise to Hunter."

"I didn't mention it to him, either." Artyom finally caught her gaze as he revealed his loyalty.

"Then my trust in you was well-placed." She smiled back at him weakly, and then turned to go inside.

The armory proved to be surprisingly deserted, even though Ulman had just come out with a box at the worst possible moment. Looking around, there was only Melnik speaking with Vladimir who was standing behind a workbench along the right wall. Vladimir had been severely wounded during their search for D6 and had since taken up a stationary role in the armory, helping to outfit Rangers for each mission, repair weaponry, and manufacture ammunition from the spent cartridges. A stack of several more crates was piled in the left corner by the door, and Artyom wondered if Ulman would be coming back.

"Artyom, you're just in time." Melnik turned as he had heard footsteps inside the door. "Ah, Aleks you're here too. I've been considering where to send you for your trial. I spoke with Anna." He said ominously.

"I know—" Aleks began solemnly, but Melnik cut her off.

"She isn't the easiest to get along with." He admitted reluctantly. "But I have had some trouble deciding who else to send you with. Although I understand your desire is to become a Stalker, Katya and Tatiana are unqualified for the type of assignment I have in mind."

"Send me." Artyom took in a deep breath and puffed up his chest as convincingly as he could. Ordinarily he would find himself wondering why he had spoken without thinking, but on the inside he knew exactly what the reason was – his mind just wouldn't form the words for him.

The shocked look on Melnik's bearded face subsided into deep contemplation. Aleks glanced back and forth between both of them, trying to understand why Artyom had volunteered and why Melnik seemed to be considering it.

"I will give it some thought." He grumbled, putting a clenched fist to his chin pensively before reaching into his pocket for something. "Bring her to the locker room and take this key. Hunter's things are with my own gear."

Saying nothing, Artyom took the key from the stalker's massive palm and turned in the direction of the storage lockers. Aleks had lingered and so he stopped just within the frame of the corridor, he was out of the way, but still within earshot.

"Has anyone even gone looking for him?" Aleks said quietly, as if trying to keep the conversation between herself and the Colonel. He seemed to understand just what she was talking about.

"I have been sending out reconnaissance teams in shifts every day, combing the area from Prospekt Mira to Sviblovo. Any leads or tips we get from inside the Metro are dealt with through telephone and radio with local officials." Melnik reported flatly, but then softened and put both his hands on her shoulders, having to lean down to reach them. "I want to find him just as badly as you do. Hunter was my closest comrade, my most trusted friend - but the situation doesn't look good, and there's been no trace of him, so far."

"What if he was still there, in their nest, during the missile strike?" Aleks whispered in a squeaky voice.

"No." Melnik shook his head and frowned. "Don't you think like that, you hear me? We will find out the truth, and when we do, I promise that I will inform you of the details myself."

"Thank you, Colonel." Aleks nodded her head in agreement, and turned to follow Artyom with more tears in her eyes. A cursory glance back at Melnik showed that he had become emotional as well, although he did his best to hide it, and Artyom felt that same twang of guilt reverberate through his body.

* * *

><p>Finding the proper storage locker after a short search through the moderately-sized room, Artyom unlocked the cover of the metal chest with the key Melnik had given him. Inside was a multitude of equipment pieces, uniforms, old military keepsakes, and ammunition in different calibers. It was difficult to resist the temptation of looking through the random collectibles that Melnik kept stored, but Artyom knew what they were here for and couldn't imagine the punishment for rifling through the commander's personal effects. Half-buried in the middle of everything was a long, polished wooden crate. It was inscribed with a worn brass nameplate which was unreadable and painted letters below it that read: "Хантер."<p>

"This is it." Artyom said flatly as he heaved the impossibly heavy crate from the locker and placed it on another nearby chest that served as a table.

"If he is found, someday, I'm going to give it all back to him." Aleks placed both hands on the surface of the shiny lacquered wood, flattening out her fingers and caressing the painted name.

"Well for now, it's yours." Artyom encouraged her, watching her face as she flipped open the two metal tabs that held the cover closed.

As she lifted the lid, her eyes lit up with amazement although her forehead had wrinkled with concern. Following her gaze he watched as she picked up different items and examined them. Most notably and right at the very top was a silenced sniper rifle. Artyom's facial expression now mirrored that of Aleksandrya as she continued through the items in the box.

There were stacks of little papers with hand-written notes, faded photographs of Moscow landmarks, and leather-skinned journals scattered between random pieces of military equipment. Nothing besides the rifle was all that interesting and it all turned out to be a rather normal assortment of things he would expect the Stalker to have left in reserve: night vision sights, pouches, medical supplies, ammunition and tools for cleaning weaponry. He couldn't help but think that if Hunter had chosen to bring his customized weapon, he might still be here to continue to use it.

Aleks gave a long sigh, setting everything but the sniper rifle and a box of ammunition for it back into the crate.

"Might as well try it out while we're here." She said quietly, as if trying to convince herself it was okay, pulling the rifle into her lap and running her fingers over the cold metal.

"How did you meet him? You never told me." Artyom said after a long silence of watching tears gather in her eyes without falling. Perhaps the real way to help her was to draw out every memory she had stored inside her so they wouldn't be suffocating her with their sentiment.

"It was almost three years ago. I had just turned twenty-one when we met, and he was probably twice my age." Aleks started, and then shifted uncomfortably and placed both hands firmly on the table. "Listen, I will tell you, but only if you stay with me."

"Stay with you?" Artyom tried to clarify her meaning by repeating her words.

"Look, don't get any ideas, I just…" She turned her gaze to the floor. "I don't want to be alone."

"Okay, I will." He said quietly, but was still confused about what exactly she was asking him for. Did she intend them to sleep in the same room? Her room? Or his room? Was that allowed here, where they had the barracks separated by gender?

"Good." She attempted to smile as if to bring about a cheerful change from the outside and draw it in, once more turning away from him and leaving the room without waiting, her new weapon in hand.

Melnik was still standing where they had left him five minutes ago, but Vladimir had set about arranging different types of weapons at the firing range, checking that each one had a full magazine beside it. Artyom wondered if he had been the only one selected to help test the weapons and was curious about the decision; surely there were other Rangers that were more knowledgeable than he was. Then again, how was he supposed to acquire such knowledge about firearms if he didn't practice more with them?

Aleks stepped up to the closest firing lane and set the sniper rifle and its ammo down on the bench. Ejecting the magazine to find that it was empty, she began to load it with cartridges from the box labeled "_Снайперские 9mmx39 СП-5._"

Artyom was hesitant to follow, but eventually walked over to the range as Melnik did, figuring he was about to receive an order from him about what to do first. Instead, the stalker stopped just behind Aleks and put both hands on his sides authoritatively.

"I see that Hunter left you his Vintorez. I trust you know what's special about it?" Melnik gave that warm smile again. He probably would have told her that it was a weapon only used by Spetsnaz and that was what made it special, or perhaps he was about to tell some story about how Hunter had used it to defend himself bravely on a mission or made some incredible shot with it. But there was no way for him to expect the kind of answer she was about to give.

"It's a cousin of the AS VAL suppressed assault rifle, nine millimeter subsonic armor piercing rounds, built at the Arsenal in Tula." Aleks recited with a straight face, as if from memory like a school child when asked about math or history. "Of course now, the only ones who can make the SP-6 rounds are the weapons specialists at Baumanskaya."

Both Melnik and Artyom's expression was of wide-eyed shock, as they were more than impressed by her recount of knowledge. Artyom almost hoped that Melnik would ask her another question, just to hear her answer so precisely; he didn't even know those kinds of specifications. Hunter had really not spared any of his expertise in mentoring her.

"What's the difference between that rifle and the VSK?" Melnik squinted at her skeptically, too tempted by her impressive display to not test her further. Artyom looked on with delight.

"The VSK and VSV were developed from the 9A-91 assault carbine; basically it's just an extended barrel, stock, and scope, but fires the same caliber."

"Let's see you fire it." Melnik growled, and gestured downrange at the backstop where a large blue and yellow circle was painted.

Artyom had already witnessed her expertise with handling an automatic weapon during their minor battle with the mutants which forced them to exit Kitai-Gorod station and go up to the surface, although he hadn't really seen how many targets she had actually taken down with her hail of fire. Still, watching Melnik watching her made things much more interesting, and he was secretly cheering her on in his mind.

Aleks clipped the last round into place in the magazine, jammed it into the receiver and took aim. Making a minor adjustment to the focus on the scope, she pressed the stock hard into her shoulder and fired a short burst.

Melnik took one large step forward, so that he was directly to her left and could see down the lane to the target.

"Move it back, Vladimir." Melnik leaned his head around the corner of the wall and gestured to Vladimir who had been watching the target zone through a security window.

Fiddling with some hidden switches, a humming noise began and Artyom stood on his toes in order to see the backstop receding further into the room, making the target distance another ten meters away. He decided to stand at the adjacent firing lane in order to be able to see where her next group of shots landed, as his angle didn't afford him a good view.

"Alright, concentrate on a controlled shot now." Melnik spoke softly, leaning over Aleks impatiently.

Aleks fired again, once, and then a pause, again, and another minor adjustment on her sights, and then a third shot. Melnik was outwardly impressed. Artyom, who had been watching the two of them, looked down at the painted circle – not a single shot had landed outside of the biggest blue circle.

"Well done!" Melnik laughed, giving Aleks a hearty pat on the shoulder. "Maybe you can tell Artyom something about the weapons we found over here and then I won't have to."

Artyom stared down at the weapon on the bench in front of him; it looked to be a very old bolt-action sniper rifle with a heavy wooden body. Feeling already slightly ashamed by the commander's comment, he only ended up confirming its truth for himself by not recognizing at all what lay before him. He held his breath in hopes that Aleks would not take the invitation.

"This is a Mosin-Nagant 1891, used extensively during the Great War. Five-round internal magazine, bolt action, and it has the extended bent bolt to accommodate a sniper scope." Aleks touched the polished wood of the rifle with one hand.

Artyom practically pretended that he wasn't there as Melnik led Aleks onwards, past him, but expecting him to follow and pay attention. Pointing at each one, Aleks recited what they were and their basic specifications.

"Dragunov SVU automatic sniper rifle, Pecheneg squad support and Degtyaryov light machine guns, all using 7.62x54 rimmed cartridges. And this one is a Simonov SKS-45 carbine with a folding bayonet." Aleks' voice droned, as if even she was generally uninterested in the things she was talking about. Melnik, on the other hand, was thoroughly pleased with her.

Artyom stared at his boots, waiting for the humiliation to be over. Inside he truly wished he'd known all the specific attributes and names of the weapons she had listed off. Although normally he'd be interested to learn everything he could, especially in order to become a more effective soldier, he was finding that he only wanted to leave the room.

As if by some miracle of the heavens, Ulman came in through the armory doors with a clatter and strolled over to the three of them casually, dragging his sleeve across his sweaty forehead. His entrance seemed to disrupt the atmosphere and it became instantly quiet.

"What is everyone up to? Have I earned my break yet, boss?" He threw a wink at Melnik whose exuberant expression changed to one of irritation.

"Yes, Ulman, go get some ear plugs and you can shoot whatever you want." Melnik sighed heavily, his hand still resting on Aleks' shoulder. "For weapons!" He corrected himself as Ulman darted around the corner, trying to clarify that he meant that he had his choice of weapon, not targets.

Aleks hurriedly left the old Stalker's grasp and picked up the Vintorez tenderly, ejecting the magazine and the clearing the chamber, leaving the unspent rounds on the bench. Evidently she remembered the new policy about ammunition.

"I'd like to get some rest, Colonel." She turned and said with an apologetic sigh. "Please excuse me."

"Of course, go and get some sleep. It's very late. I'll send for you sometime tomorrow once I've worked out your assignment." Melnik nodded his head slowly and waved her off with one hand.

"Goodnight, Artyom." Aleks said softly, and he raised his head upon hearing his name, just catching her invasive stare for long enough to understand that he should follow her when he was able. The inflection in her next sentence confirmed his suspicion, "We will speak again soon."


	22. Everything You Ever Wanted To Know

**Author's Note: **Hey everyone, sorry I disappeared for a bit. I was hard at work backstage at the theatre, then worked the next week and a half toiling on my Padme Amidala costume for Boston Comic Con. Then I got news that my father passed away, so it's been a rough month or so. I had the backstory of Aleks and Hunter written out a while ago but didn't have any of the setup for it to start the chapter so it sat on the back burner until know.  
>I also apologize that this may not be the best of my work, as I've obviously been distracted. But please do enjoy the good parts and the long-awaited story of how Hunter and Aleks met each other!<p>

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Twenty Two<strong>

Comforted by Aleks' hasty exit, Artyom felt as if he could think and breathe normally again; it was as if a fog existed around his head when she was around and his mind just spun in circles. The embarrassment of her superior knowledge still reigned though, hitting him more sharply as he caught sight of Melnik shaking his head solemnly. For a minute, Artyom thought the Colonel might turn and admonish him for being so dull by comparison, but then he began to speak in a mournful tone.

"I wish she had come to us sooner." Melnik sighed, a regretful frown on his lips. "I didn't even know that Hunter had so much spare time to spend with her – or anyone, really. But perhaps his requests for extra assignments only gave him the opportunity to be closer to wherever she was at the time."

"You would have welcomed her? Even back at Polis?" Ulman inserted, coming back around the corner with three sets of hearing protection.

"He did mention her before, about a year or so ago. He'd been spending more and more time out on patrols, though he always checked in on time. I could tell something was on his mind, so I asked him outright." Melnik shifted his stance, rubbing the bridge of his nose with two fingers. "He told me he'd been visiting an old friend, but I didn't believe him. Finally he came clean and told me he had been meeting a girl at Novokuznetskaya."

"So you knew about it all along and never did anything?" Ulman challenged the Colonel with a harsh tone, but Artyom couldn't be sure what he had to be angry about.

"We can't just adopt every man's mistress into our fold! Smolensk was already overcrowded… you have to think about these things when you're in command." Melnik sighed, knowing that no reason was good enough to atone for the loss of their best soldier.

"Mistress?!" Ulman yelled, amused by the sentiment but still sounding irritated. "Hunter wasn't married! Aleks is clearly a different breed of woman; we could use a soldier like her."

"I know that _now_!" Melnik roared, then relaxed and hushed his voice. "I know it's my fault – that I didn't listen to him when he came to me about the Dark Ones. You're thinking that she could have joined the Order and been his partner and gone with him to the Gardens, that they could have been a team and protected each other. Perhaps it was all possible at one point… only it didn't happen that way. Hunter never asked me about it. In fact, I asked him what he intended to do about her, and as much as I believe that he wanted her here – she refused him."

"Why would she turn down an offer to join us? Especially if she apparently loved him so damn much!" Ulman growled, taking the Mosin Nagant in his grasp and working the bolt repetitively out of frustration.

"Because, of her people… back at Avtozavodskaya." Artyom spoke up timidly at first but caught sight of the surprised look on the faces of the other two men and was reassured. "Actually, we were just talking about whether she would stay or not."

"And?" Both Melnik and Ulman pressed him for the answer to the question on everyone's minds. Artyom was slightly amused that he had been wondering about the same thing, thinking that Melnik had already instigated a plan to sign her on and yet it turned out that he had known more than anyone.

"She hasn't decided anything for certain yet. She seems… regretful, and she knew that Hunter wanted her to be part of the Order, but I think now that she is here it only reminds her that she never listened to him." Artyom looked off into the distance where her silhouette last loomed by the door, thinking of her more by the pain in his heart than the actual memory.

Melnik and Ulman exchanged glances, apparently both realizing the opportunity in front of them. Ulman remained silent, talking to Melnik with his eyes, and waiting for him to give the order.

"Alright Artyom, this is your assignment. It'll remain in effect on top of the mission I'll be sending you both on tomorrow." Melnik leaned down and put a hand on his shoulder, looking directly into his eyes to make sure he understood fully.

"Both of us?" Artyom asked hopefully with an eyebrow raised.

"Yes. You are to stay as close to her as possible. It's obvious that she confides in you, sees some sort of similarities between you and herself. The fact that you were the last person Hunter spoke to means something, to everyone, but to her more than any. Find out as much as you can and report any relevant bits to me." He glanced over at Ulman's excited expression and frowned. "Only to me. Understand?"

"Yes, sir." Artyom gave a salute.

"Good. Off you go, I assume that tone of voice meant she wanted to speak with you anyway." Melnik gave the same knowing grin that Artyom had been seeing on the faces of most of his comrades in D6. It would have been more unsettling had he not just been given the order to talk to her more.

Taking that as reason enough to depart, Artyom swiftly left the armory and headed straight for the women's barracks hall. His mind was instantly at work with questions as soon as he crossed the threshold: Where and how would he find her? What would he say to her now? Should he tell her about their vague assignment set for the next day?

He tried to focus on what would come first, that she was going to finally tell him the tale of how she had met Hunter – or how Hunter had met her, as she longingly stated when he'd first asked. Trying to imagine his own circumstances set his visions on some far away beautiful station where she was dressed in a colorful gown and the roguish stalker was instantly captivated by her beauty and prowess… but as he envisioned it, he found himself stepping towards her and everything stopped.

How strange, he thought, though he believed he understood why he'd placed himself in the scenario he tried to make excuses for it anyway. Of course, he thought, it's my little fantasy so I would be the one acting in it. But no, he thought, it was not supposed to be me, of course. Did that mean he was also captivated by her beauty and prowess?

Had Hunter been the one drawn to her? Or was it the other way around? Was it she who had been captivated by the hulking Ranger, becoming the only one brave enough to approach such a foreboding figure and slip herself under his hardened exterior to greet the man hiding inside? Did Hunter have a softer and more human side than he portrayed? Artyom never thought of the man to care for love or family, but then there were a lot of things he didn't know about the man called Hunter.

No, it had to have been the other way around, how else could he explain it? Aleks was captivating, from the moment his eyes absorbed her visage in the office room at Avtozavodskaya. Just as he was now finding that she consumed his thoughts, Hunter too, must have been drawn to her like a moth to the light. Was Artyom only starting to fall for her because of her powerful aura? Or was it simply that her very soul radiated outwards and touched people's lives? Was it her personality that he loved, or her mysterious power?

Suddenly, the door in front of him squeaked open and Artyom just noticed that he'd come the whole way on autopilot. He glanced behind him, looking for signage to indicate that he was actually in the right place. He didn't even remember walking here.

"I thought it would be you, Artyom." Aleks said softly, peering around the metal opening.

"H-how did you know it was me?" Artyom replied uneasily, still trying to regain his place in time.

"I heard you stop outside the door, and then it was quiet. You were probably trying to decide whether to knock, or what you should say to me. Well, you don't have to say anything – you just have to listen."

"Alright…" He nodded his head, slowly stepping into the hall as she moved aside and closed the door behind them.

Aleks beckoned him forward and he followed her for a short distance to one of the bunk rooms in the hall. He took a seat on the cot as instructed and watched as she sealed the door to the room and then sat in a chair across from him. She had stripped herself of her armor and boots, and only wore faded grey fatigues and a pair of black socks.

"So, you want to hear the story of how we met. I guess you've earned it." Aleks smiled weakly, she looked exhausted.

"Please, if you don't mind…" Artyom leaned forward eagerly.

"Everybody wants to know, okay, but I don't care about them so don't tell anyone else." She began in a quiet voice; he assumed she was referring to the gossip being whispered all over D6. "It wasn't just some childish crush, and I wasn't some secret wife he never told anybody about. It was real."

"I know…" Artyom said, but he didn't really. He just wanted her to know that he was listening and taking her seriously.

"I know that he loved me, in his own way, though we never said those things to each other. I knew he loved me from the moment we first spoke. Although, I guess, he had overheard me at that bar in Kitai-Gorod, too…" Her voice waned as her memories of that time took over her consciousness. The story came alive through her eyes as she recounted the tale that Artyom had been longing to hear. "You would never see him in such an awkward state… trying to come up with the right words to say to me."

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><p>Sitting in the very darkest corner of the bustling restaurant with his back to the wall, the rugged Stalker carefully observed the people around him. There were several tall tables set up around the room, and not a single one was left empty. At many of them, men stood with their drinks in hand, as the population of the place proved to be more than there were chairs available.<p>

Eating his supper of pork with mushrooms quickly, he glanced at his watch to check the time. He liked to go to different places in between patrols, as there was always something going on and always an opportunity to gather intelligence. Things in the stations, especially those of the Greater Metro, changed swiftly, and the Stalker had lately been particularly interested in the current state of affairs between the warring bandit clans. From Novokuznetskaya to Kitai-Gorod, there were no less than four different factions of organized criminals who were constantly plotting their next scheme. Although the Stalker had never bothered to involve himself in their plans or strike against them, he had taken up eavesdropping on the lesser bosses as somewhat of a hobby; perhaps also every now and then giving an anonymous tip to a rival clan, just for his own entertainment.

Tonight, there was definitely the pressing sense that something interesting would be happening at any moment, and so he cast his wary gaze at the crowd once more. This is when he spotted it; the building arrangement for a potentially lively display, a private performance for him to revel in. His senses never failed him.

Amongst the usual disheveled and scrawny men with shaved heads and embellished pigskin jackets, there was a young woman wandering about the room in a leisurely manner. She wore a long ivory dress under a dark gray jacket, which upon closer inspection seemed to be refashioned from an old military sweater to fit her slim figure perfectly. Her long reddish brown hair fell around her pale pink face like the picture frame on a masterpiece and although he had at first noticed her for her unusual presence, he was halted by her beauty.

Without question, the loudest table of men was sitting near this girl; they had been laughing and drinking heartily even before the Stalker had entered the establishment. From their outward appearance he could identify that they were members of the leading party of this station, and obviously enjoyed their free time without interference. Two of the men seemed to be boasting about some recent conquest, although he hadn't heard what their gains entailed. The others at the table praised and goaded them on, giving a noisy toast and slamming their mugs together.

This was the setup that would prove eventful. The Stalker quickly downed the rest of his tea in anticipation, not wanting to miss a moment once it had begun.

"Ey krasotka, why don't you come over here and sit with us, huh?" A stout man cackled lustily to the girl, slapping his knee as if to invite her to sit on it and taking a swig of brew that then dripped from the corners of his mouth and into his beard.

"Do I look like a common whore to you?" The girl spoke in a crystal voice with a fierce glare, standing up straight and squaring her shoulders as if preparing for a fight.

"Not common, no! Definitely easier on the eyes than those career girls in Venice." The man guffawed again, his buddies joining him and slamming their mugs together in another toast. "But every one of you girls has your price."

The stout man narrowed his eyes and his smile faded, he seemed to be staring her down, like a challenge. The Stalker was watching carefully for the girl's reaction, finding his fingers had tightened on the edge of the plywood table. For a moment, he thought the girl might strike, or possibly even cry and run off to her tent to get her father or brother to settle the score. But she remained firm, her expression even softened a bit, and she took a step forward so the stout man could hear her as she began to speak again in a low voice.

"Alright then, we can make a deal." She showed a mischievous smile.

The Stalker was surprised by her statement but for the wrong reasons, he was sure that he had sensed something different about her, yet she had given in so easily. He sighed, sinking back against the wall and folding his hands together to rest his forehead on.

"Haha! I told you!" He toasted with his buddies once more. "Ten bullets? Twenty?"

"Your life." She spoke flatly, narrowing her eyes.

The Stalker perked his head up sharply and didn't take his eyes off her again.

"What the fuck kind of deal is that?" The stout man immediately flew into a rage, not wanting to be made a fool of.

"You heard me. I will go in that room over there with you, for whatever you like… but afterwards, I get to slit your fat throat." She spoke with distaste, nearly spitting as she laid out her terms.

The Stalker couldn't believe his ears. Was she simply toying with the man? Or did she truly have a blood lusting price for her services? Who would ever take her up on such an offer? Surely she wasn't serious. She didn't look like the sort who would sell themselves to any useless scum that turned up at the local bar. This one was far too clean and sharp-witted, he thought, what was her game?

"Just what the fuck are you on about, bitch?" The man slammed his hand on the table, his friends looking angrier by the minute and each was heckling their supposed leader to teach her a lesson.

"Not worth it to you? No matter." She turned to walk off with a contented smile, waving the man away with her hand.

"Hold on!" The man yelled angrily, standing up abruptly and reaching inside his jacket.

The Stalker flinched, getting to his feet instantly and reaching for his Stechkin. But there was no chance for him to intervene, as the girl proved to be more agile than anyone could have guessed.

Just as the stout man with the beard was pulling out his gun, she closed the distance between them and twisted his arm outwards. The swift but powerful motion forced him to release the grip on his pistol and she managed to catch it with her free hand and point it back at him in a matter of seconds.

"Change your mind already?" She said in a sing-song voice, giving an unsettling smile as she clicked off the safety.

"Uhh, uhh! Fuck!" The bandit murmured as his friends abandoned him at the table. "Let's get out of here!" He yelled as he wriggled his wrist from her grip and turned to run after his companions, stumbling over another group of people at an adjacent table as the alcohol had stolen away his balance. Knocking over a chair on his way out of the enclosure, silence prevailed in the small place for several minutes. The other occupants weren't sure if they should applaud the girl or go running off in the same manner. Each man eyed this nimble girl warily, trying to judge her temperament as she looked over her prize.

The Stalker was completely astounded, and sank back into his chair for one bewildered moment, examining her movements as she strolled away without a care, carrying her new weapon carefully with both hands and ejecting the clip to count the ammunition left inside. He replayed the event in his mind, asking himself why he'd been ready to come to her rescue at all. After a few seconds in awed silence, he quickly gathered his knapsack and went after her into the station.

Just a few meters straight ahead he spotted her walking away at that same leisurely pace and he rushed after her. That had been the answer! Not the event that had itself astounded him, but now he understood that it was the girl that had piqued his intuition.

"That was well done, girl." He spoke softly, so as not to startle or provoke her as he caught up alongside.

"I am not a girl." She grumbled, not looking over at him.

"No, for certain. You are a fully grown and deadly woman." He paused, unsure how to proceed. "You are clearly not one of _them_, either. So, where is it you are from?"

"As if it's any of your business…" She scoffed.

"Listen," he began, drawing up in front of her and forcing her to stop, but then not fully knowing what he intended to say next. How could he possibly explain everything he needed to in just a few captivating sentences to hold her attention so she wouldn't overlook him? "You can put those talents of yours to better use. Make a name for yourself."

"I already have a name." She didn't hesitate to give him a smart retort.

"And what might that be?" He replied smoothly, finding the source of his charm once more.

She glanced sideways at him; a look of distrust was expressed as she had only just been berated by another man seconds ago. But as her eyes met his inquisitive stare, her expression relaxed and she halted in her tracks. His overwhelming energy emanated outwards, surrounding her, and she could no longer resist his questions.

"Aleksandrya." It was as if she had succumbed to a truth serum, her smoky gray eyes still locked with his deep brown ones, and she spoke very softly and clearly. "Aleksandrya Adrianova Dmitriyev."

"It's nice to meet you, Aleksandrya. I am called Hunter." He found himself smiling and tried with difficulty to remain stern.

"That's not a real name." She furrowed her delicately sculpted brows.

"It's a nickname… and my profession." He placed a hand over his heart to express his sincerity.

"I'm not interested in nicknames or what you do to earn a living." Managing to break his spell, she brushed him away and continued along the vestibule.

The stalker was completely halted, bewildered by the fact that his charisma alone was not enough to tempt her. Grown men and soldiers of all ranks balked at his presence, and yet this young woman found him uninteresting and unintimidating. Finding that he actually wanted to tell her his real name so she wouldn't walk away, he struggled for the words. It had been so long that he had gone by Hunter that he almost didn't remember.

"Ivan!" He called loudly, making several people in the area including Aleksandrya stop short. Striding over to where she stood staring at him in disbelief, he dared to put a hand on her shoulder so she couldn't run off again. "Ivan Antonovich… Zaytzev."

"Zaytzev?" She raised an eyebrow. "Like… Vasily Zaytzev? The sniper?"

He gave one quick nod, not wanting to admit his link to the famous Soviet historical figure; that aspect of his background was not up for discussion at the moment.

"What exactly do you want?" She sighed softly, not as if she was annoyed but realizing that now she was ensnared. Although dejected, her eyes proved to him that she was captivated by his spirit.

"I want to help you." He shook his head, that wasn't really the answer. "I want to teach you what I know, and show you what I do."

"And why would I want to do what you do?" She asked tentatively, leaning onto her toes in wait for the answer and cocking her head slightly.

"You're still not convinced?" His face now turned serious, as he had tired of her reluctant acceptance. In his heart he understood people through their most slight changes in expression or demeanor, and she was more than interested in his proposition. "Tell me, what exactly brought you to that bar this evening? You neither ate, or drank, or talked to anyone at all before that asshole bothered you."

She attempted to hide her surprised and fearful face by turning her head away from him, but he would have none of it; turning her head back in his direction with his hand that seemed so big compared to her, he continued to hold her chin to force her to look into his piercing eyes.

"Either you've come to cause trouble on someone else's behalf, or you are well on your way to becoming what I already am. We are one and the same, Aleksandrya Adrianova. So, what do you say to that?"

Aleksandrya spoke not a single word, but nodded her head slowly. Taking in the entire image of the strapping Stalker with her widened eyes, she tried to guess how many battles had made him the threateningly massive and hardened figure that he was.

"Good. Now, come with me." Slipping his grasp from her bright pink face to her dainty wrist, he led her into the tunnel and away from the station. She did nothing to protest or prevent him.


End file.
